I stood alone at the door of dawn
Staring into the dark unkown
Wondering whether to fall
or to call
so sick of it all.
Seventeen years of life, love and shit
A life-time of hurt,
wallowed and spun
With four more to come
till I'm dead and done.
Relentless oncoming, train of fate
Tracks carved into my soul
Window pain unable to quell
As we pulll into hell
the Paddlesworth cell
Keep writing Morgan. Keep pouring out your soul.
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