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Sep 2013
The forgotten tale of a young girl
with bloodshot eyes and traces of
broken wishbones.
Death on doorsteps and
tails-end pennies
scattered beneath her feet.
The garden of good and evil has not existed
for a long while since it hasn't stopped
raining,
and by now,
the fields of purity are drenched
in melon-cholia.
Maybe next time.
emma joy
Written by
emma joy  CT
(CT)   
802
 
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