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first frost -- the kindling takes with a hiss
Do my ears look big in this? You’d tell me if they did, Right? Cause my forearm clashes with my pants. ...
I am a chick You don’t call it lit But I read it. I am the protagonist The girl who loses part of herself ...
The lights in the street are gold or white or blue.
The primitive grass says nothing of what’s to come. ...
in death she will leave the shape of a cat
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Dights Falls singing after a week of rain