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Feb 2011
Events lost in the future.
Little twigs hitting windows.
Bones are crunching in your mind.
You hear a shivering man minus the skin.
The hail pelts his skull and his brain.
His thoughts are to be forgotten, but not yet.
They are still plausible.
They are still possible.
But who can hear him?
He's dead.
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Isaac
Written by
Isaac
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