Poem Writing
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Translation

You are a call to motion,created and ill fated illusionsswell in some great oceanthey move your delusions. Slated for the time insidea shore so golden so warmready for the foam to slidein the warm under no storm. Maybe I was a pill for skillsthat make me rise far above.Your implication killsa sea vast filled up Continue reading
About Me
Shadows of my old self.