One eight hundredA Poem by ditto
Help comes to those
who genuinely seek it, search for the light, strenuously and frequent whereas I like to lie to myself and deep within the Reeses of sleep, dreams preferable to a weak will to breathe. Stay awake though for future's stake in my placement. © 2017 ditto |
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Added on April 17, 2017 Last Updated on April 17, 2017 |