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A picture painted in red, Crimson sliding down a canvas of snow-white skin. Creating cracks in porcelain as the knife cuts deeper, The bright fluid oozing out from underneath the surface. Dulled senses are awoken,
  Black. It covers the imperfections and the happiness and the loneliness. A cold walk through the city park. You're tripping over your feet again.
She had so many friends  No doubt, no worry' People said they would love her to the end  But she was in too much of a hurry   Often ran from her problems But didnt run enough
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