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Literature Text
I've never been kissed.
Never tasted the lips of a lover.
Never shared the passion,
The ecstacy of love,
With my full heart.
I wonder if life is passing me by,
And not looking back.
Never tasted the lips of a lover.
Never shared the passion,
The ecstacy of love,
With my full heart.
I wonder if life is passing me by,
And not looking back.
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She was born on Christmas Eve, and endured being dres
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The hooded figure, crouched high above everything around himself, noted his scenery. He was in a sugar mill, on top of a silo, and it was a very rainy day. The ground was covered in ankle-deep water. But that didn't matter to him. It was far below, and he was free to go almost anywhere he pleased. Crouching further still and placing his hands in front of him, he then leaped, going far, far into the air before landing with a heavy thud on top of a before-distant silo that was slightly higher than the last. From here, he could see even more of the mill.
But he wasn't just sightseeing, he was looking for something in particular; or rather, so
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Just a short poem wondering about love.
Comments11
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This is awsome! Very dood job with this.