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he is many things a musical writer on a self loathing train to nowhere and though it may have crossed his mind he did not wish to die but rather he wished to live forever and his greatest fault was that he thought he could and among the space between sleep and wakefulness he envisioned a happy day he knew would come and even if it did not he would still rise the next morning to meet the day with enthusiasm some days it is all he has though to write it down
0
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
his head rests upon the cold desk
he is many things a musical writer on a self loathing train to nowhere and though it may have crossed his mind he did not wish to die but rather he wished to live forever and his greatest fault was that he thought he could and among the space between sleep and wakefulness he envisioned a happy day he knew would come and even if it did not he would still rise the next morning to meet the day with enthusiasm some days it is all he has though to write it down
blaine-genson
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Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
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