| Longing |
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| she sits alone, on her bed, looking through her box, filled with pictures, and happy things. she wonders how life could be so simple when she was young and so complicated now. now, she sits longing to see her blood, pouring out in the place of tears, but longing more to be happy and content with her life. longing for the way life used to be, as a child, painless and carefree. she sits on her bed, longing for the simple life, of years gone by. |
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