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I Read . . .
I read of love,
of it being a block away,
or an ocean away.
I read of heartbreak,
just at words said.
I read of pain,
death, loss, anguish.
But what I see outnumbers what I've read.
I've held my friends when they cried,
I've been held when I cried.
I've felt darkness creep up on me,
slowly suffocating me.
I know heartbreak better than the back of my hand,
how alone you feel when it hits you.
Weren't expecting that, were you?
Books may be entertaining,
but they can't prepare you for the real world.
You may sit in your house all day reading,
which is just dandy till the day you decide to go out in the real world.
Then you get shot, robbed, killed.
Or fall in love, live in a fairytale.
Thinking that your life is perfect, until the day they break your heart.
You realize they used you,
your world falls apart then.
So reading isn't bad,
just don't read too much.
It gives you false allusions of the world.
I didn't read this,
it came from experience.
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