ally gunther

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There’s nothing I can find, nothing to behold,
A blank empty canvass when I think of you and it all,
Sitting in my bedroom no one wonders why,
a young teenage girl sits at her computer desk to cry.

And even when I try painting pictures to fill it up,
All that I am left with is splotch after dirty splotch,
Insignificance being the only way to hold true,
I wash off the splotches with the water crossing my cheeks.

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