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I sit here, at the edge of the fountain,wading my fingers into the pool.surrounding me, are the bright colors,of the only things that are not cruel.Th..
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I hear thecrinklingof fallen leaves,and wind, flowing through the branches.The light, fading as dusk draws near,and the shadows, growing stronger.The ..
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Standing atop a snow covered hilla girl, silent, pale, and stilland no expression on her faceShe did not move, nor did she speakshe only stood, small ..
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A poem, about a tree. Enjoy.
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