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One morning the winds stoppedA tsunami coiled over the seven seasTowards the day, the grounds drifted apartThe distance much longer than it seemsThe s..
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In the midst snow it sleeps in blackAnd the streaks on the window slowly crackA black crow settles before thy kneesBegging for mercy, its pain to plea..
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Sleeping in dust, acid and chainsSits a Locust, in ashes he drainedThe orator left no mercy and drownedFrom ashes to ashes they all fell downThe begga..
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"The Heart of The Beggar's Tomb"
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A true story of a writer and a coffee bistro server who fall in love, but always remain distant. With friends always surrounding her,the author still ..
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Dearest Weaver, It is lonesome and it is spring time. I have just left your presence for the night. Although, you may not notice me and I probably do ..
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Dear Weaver, It has been a while since I last wrote you, but not much longer than I have been to the Bistro. The date is April 16th, 2013 and I am sta..
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Dear Weaver, You. It was you. I walked into the Bistro today as I glared into the glass door, opening it to find you there again. The awkward melodies..
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Dear Weaver, Today I sit here alone with my drycigaretteand coffee. The clouds are looming around the sun as I gaze through the stained glass window a..
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Augustine gets closer to reaching out to the "Weaver" and loses all hope after another disappointing event.
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