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Standing up, with questions in hand.
I know none of these words,
but try to use my voice to sound them out.
I hide behind denial,
and an even faker smile.

I want to know that the world cares,
to know that the world still gives a damn.
I remember when love was just more then 4 letters.
It used to mean ever so much more,
when you could divide you and I with it.

Those were the times where lives were grand.
Escapes to times hushed between lips,
and emotions that are inexplicable.
The same way you can describe life,
but now it\'s gone.

Like some sort of evaporation of the soul,
on a humid day that knows no better.

I run towards the sun hoping to find a purged exisitance.
I burn up with wings mended with wax,
and I fall and hit the ground.
Hit hard, but finally hit what I call this cruel reality.

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The following comments are for " Flying Machines and Words Unheard and Still Unseen"
by ryangilr0y

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