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Each old novel; a new lover, Assuaging the pain of life. Silence falls over the house, save The rustling of yellowed pages.  
Once I get home, I sit outside after a long day. Everyone wants to talk to me, but I don't really have anything to say. I like to keep to myself, because it ensures that I will not be in pain.
When sadness finds me at the end of night,creep up my body like a lover who has forgotten the meaning of no.I pick up a novel and forget my existence.
The blaring alarm breaks through the daze, And the sun shines through the window in a golden haze, The birds are chirping in a frantic melody,
Like Charles Dickens i have great expectations for you. you are like a novel i seek to dwell into and become lost in a never ending fantasy a great-gasp-be-comes the only expression of gratitude like Fitzgerald when i see you.
Typing inching Eyelids tiring Heroes crying Villains dying   Sleep depriving Caffeine failing Planets burning Magic learning   Resolve crumbling Block existing.
Within the turn of a page, I’m transported to 1920’s New Orleans.   Soft pastel ribbons that adorn the corn silk curls of the girls passing by catch my eye as I inhale the thick scent of burning cigars.  
They would turn a whisper into a shout. A phrase streching for miles. I'd tell truth to be revealed Healing would never come... The truth sets only those free who confess. I, of the confession am in bars.
They come They go They stay They leave   But to catch them Now that's hard So close you come To forming coherency  
We loved each other in the truest form She, was my everything We overcame the initial boundaries So why wasn’t that enough?!   Why couldn’t I stay on the highest level of intellect?
Stay silent Sit straight Perfect hair Perfect teeth Perfect body Perfect house\perfect friends ` Perfect parents Perfect! Perfect! Perfect!
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