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Literature Text
Se cierra el cielo
de nuevo morir
tan poca carne
para llenar un ataùd
tan poca vida
para llenar tus lágrimas
azules
jamás...
de nuevo morir
tan poca carne
para llenar un ataùd
tan poca vida
para llenar tus lágrimas
azules
jamás...
Literature
Relatable
“A pen is to me as a beak is to a hen.”
- J.R.R Tolkien
Literature
apocryphal
so cunning and seemingly honest
at times there is nothing but wit
yet not quite real on the inside
but nothing we care to admit
Literature
Untitled
He sat on the window sill and watched her sleep. The moonbeams beating down on her beautiful face. The soft wind blew the sheer white curtain inwards. He sighed softly. Why was he even here? How could he take something so precious from her? Oh right, he needed the money. His feet lightly hit the floor. Now he was a mere black figure in her room, blocking the rays of the moon from her face. She really was amazing. She had this habit of making him feel like he was somebody even as she slept. He walked to her bedside and knelt down. As gentle as a brush of wind, his hand stroked some black hair out of her face. So fragile. So vulnerable. He wasn
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