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Comments about austin moyer
a small boy lost and broken, stuck to the rhymes of the past
his travels he looks back, twords the lost as he always has asked,
with life has left him dry, why has the world become so cold,
yet everyone seems to past him when he ends at last.
the black birds circle above the dead man,
feared the loneliness of the cold nights, yet,
like a Liane he served no function and his live only spans
believing in a world only you can.
a teen sat on his computer typing a convoluted poem
yet his mind was no jeroboam.
and his life left darken in an abyss, he was left...