All the stones I put under my hand are breaking my fingers. The stones are burned more than the unreliable.
I can't cope with coming to my mind.
On a lonely night, I wrap the duvet together.
I forgive everyone and all who I am, and then I am still sick and everything. Most of all, I can't deal with myself.
Tan began to bleed, it was time to gather the disappointments at the table for the people of the night, but you know, for some of us, tan never drifts.
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