elevenA Chapter by ((Teenage_Poet_Loser))An empty bottle of scotch lies on the ground Flies fly past with their new treasure found I will make this short Hold Wait here for me Be Who you are I am making no sense But I sure don’t care Someone will know what I mean © 2011 ((Teenage_Poet_Loser))Reviews
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2 Reviews Added on November 29, 2011 Last Updated on November 29, 2011 Author
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