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the sun seems to be brighter when I dont want it to be.
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All about me 
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They had to stay in. if they went out, they would get killed. The once pure white snow was now tainted with red.
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We were on a fast. A devout mission. It would only be broken at the time of the great feast to be had later that day.
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Martha lifted the gin to her lips and sipped. Micheal Murphy sat beside her smoking the pipe, the smoke drifting upward to stain further the ceiling of the bar. Someone played at the piano, the sound being lost amongst the vo
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“I remember you every moment,” she whispered, “I never want to leave you.” “Well, don’t then,” he said, looking down into her eyes.
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Time is gonna take my mind and carry it faraway so i can fly1
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I stared at the fireflies,dancing about in pure ecstasy..so inocent yet sure...tears made their way down my cheeks like little drops of rai
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1. Name: Well, my real name is Cassandra with the third a being short and the second, and first ones sounding like an o... I do have another legal alias though being Ariss Rosethorn End Starre. 1
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Everyone has a crutch, Bonie Time’s crutch are these tubes. The tubes that are hocked into her skin.
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What blooms once and is very fragile? 1
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This is our decision, to live fast and die young.
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun.
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Riley may seem to have the perfect home, but that’s just and act that every family puts on. But behind the curtains, it’s not so good.
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The feeling of that trust broken, and in such an awful way, didn’t just anger me, but humiliated me forever trusting it. It beauty and grac
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by Rorshach
200 words, 4 comments,
on Nov 25 8:11 PM. In Life
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As she looked at the mirror she saw the old scars.
A series of small lines on her legs, thighs and arms....
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The Last Toast is a warning to procrastinators.
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That's what I'm trying to do, just get through one day after the other of this wondrous hell.
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1. Name: Celtic101, sorry no real names, my mom would kill me1
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Whenever you see bad things happen to other people, you never think that could happen to you. I know I always did. But then, if that's tr
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Old enough to think alone, Old enough to speak alone,
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Uncertainty, stinging clear, is poured into my brain like a liter of acid. Everything comes to a screeching halt. Life itself has ceased to progress with the natural order of the universe. I gaze around me at all the peons wh
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Writing was all too weird, I ignored it and didn't give it a second thought until I got sick a year after I wrote my first poem.1
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I can feel the pain of that man alone at the bar. The bar becoming a part of him, his home.
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