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Literature Text
I run.
I flee.
Can you even see me?
I sit.
I stare.
Why am I all alone?
They come.
They take.
What am I left with now?
The night has ended.
The day has begun.
Will I ever cease to be overrun?
I flee.
Can you even see me?
I sit.
I stare.
Why am I all alone?
They come.
They take.
What am I left with now?
The night has ended.
The day has begun.
Will I ever cease to be overrun?
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i'm not sure why but this kinda makes sense. no it's not me. but i was thinking in a friends place.
if you like it ore hate it COMMENT.
tell me what you think and be honest and brutal.
if you like it ore hate it COMMENT.
tell me what you think and be honest and brutal.
© 2008 - 2024 Oughter
Comments2
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I'm not sure that, as per the artist comments, I can be brutal towards such a sweet little piece. It's like a delicate little flower of melancholy. And who knows whether the narrator will find an answer? It leaves me with a slightly uncomfortable feeling. As ~ForgottenCreation23 said in 2008, this is simple, but strong. And that's all it needs to be; it speaks for itself.