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 Feb 2017
Moa J Baer
In our little game,
            It’s never the same.

            Because with every try,
            Came a new lie.
            
            In our imaginary world,
            We gave our word.
        
            The same,
            Goes for the game,
            That played with our minds,
            Twas Forgotten, left Behind.

            Though we survived,
            Our imaginary world,
            Withered and died,
            Without our word.

— The End —