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the missing me

I seem to have an innate desire
to walk a wayward heart path
eclipsed in insidous darkness
only traveled, by the bent
and broken

surreptitisously devoid of innocence
by shadow tongue promises
my adolescent soul left to rot
like carelessly discarded milk cartons
with fading pictures
of missing childrens faces
Written by DiscipleofLife (Fenom)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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