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7:17 p.m. - September 02, 2001 taste of sweet solace, then silence we never bothered before fallen a million and to proud to climb back traveled a million and too tired to come back don't come to me with your crocodile tears i cannot muster sympathy don't come to me with your conjured up fears the sharp pain of memory the unwanted empathy one understand, sharp, sudden, and strong i thank you although i never do i hope by now i've absolved you the continuing tirade... stop trying to fill me, your reserve is full this hole in my soul, cream-filled you are not at fault don't take my rampage as pertaining to us too connected to be silenced we possess no violence
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