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Nov 21, 2024
Like illegitimate sons becoming nephews. Stay with me I have lost my ink.
An underground knife cuts you to wrist, you bleed on paper.
It was a tip of trust failure after a wake up call by a loner; the molten lava will find another sexual pursuit.
There was nothing left to be concealed, after the bonfires of veils. The celibate tears come unbidden I am going to encounter the pool.
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