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Jun 2010
dark and listless, striding through this black dark Forrest with only a speck
of sentimental white light, staring directly through me.
many generations have passed and have been buried in the ground underneath my feet.
26 years ago the trees began to grow, and now all they seep is blood that once ran through the
veins of the society that planted them to blossom.
Written by
Bridget Cassidy
414
 
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