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How is this world so wickedly spun, around the spools of powerful words that planted seeds into our minds, into our hearts… We spun like the yarn that would be worn in the cold winter nights; forgetting that there is more to life. The world was getting darker the moon struggling to be bright. And yet we were there caressing old worn off words which were only splurted and we thought it ended a life. Life goes on, winters or the summers bliss… Words come and go like the people saying them.

-thepinkgleam

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