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I whisper out to my old friendand the darkness whispers backIt speaks to me of memoriesglances of the past to whenyou touched my armand for hours... ..
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Dear diaryDo your pages bleed?When my pen flies across your skinlike the razor flashes across minedoes the open wound pour forth black and blue tearsb..
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At first it was nothing but a feelinga brief disturbance in a chance encounterHe strode past, black coat trailing and rain falling,and his windows of ..
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