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Ysabelle Apr 2021
We are not destined for prosperity.
Of this, I am sure.
Our destiny is akin to the butchers calf.
But, if you'd allow me.
Just one naive wish.
One human desire.
I ask for happiness.
For old age and pained limbs.
For many years of arguing and conflict.
For struggle and hunger.
Give me years.
If not prosperity give me this.
crunchie, izi, I may be in love with you. But you don't have to know that.

— The End —