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    Summary

      Written for the Poor Man's Sinfest, here, for this lyrical prompt: I come along but I don't know where you're taking me/ I shouldn't go but you're wrenching dragging shaking me/ Turn off the sun pull the stars from the sky/ The more I give to you the more I die/ You are the perfect drug.

    Words:
    1,806
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    1
    Kudos:
    5