Another death of the best. More then a few in less then a year, makes me blue. Confused. Emotionally abused. I choose to let loose and stare at some boobs. Prolly of you. It dulls the knife that's in the wound, soothes the sound that tries to consume, and moves my life to get back in tune. Sad to say... We are all doomed...
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...i do wonder...
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...Inspiration from a pen pal i met on a game, from Nigeria, Africa...
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