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pale boy trudges through winter slush. eyes downcast, thoughts amuck. He struggles to recall the starkness of Narnia, instead holocaust ima...
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Confessions are cheap, be they sincere or not. How will you end your puny life? Will it be swept away majestically? Oh, sweet heart, unlike...
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It had to be in May when the grass could never be greener, not even in gentle June or lush July I saw the girl in the green spring coat. O...

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