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May 2015
The dust begin to compile,
from the story you gave me.
The dust begin to vanish,
as the story begins to burn.

It was white as snow,
black as the windowsill,
and red as blood, the princess.
**The story ends, as the narrator smiled.
To feel is human nature,
and so is to lose.
Written by
   cassandra garate, ajit peter, a, ---, ns and 6 others
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