Confessions Made in Ink
Every glance,
a confession made.
Drenched in ink spilt,
by fate's hate.
The same ink,
your cloak to this day,
is the burden you bear,
attempt to lose your way.
Every glance,
a heartbreak.
Every glance,
a confession made.
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" I go to seek a great perhaps."- Alaska Young, Looking for Alaska by John Green
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