Where does life take us? How do we know. God gives me to where? How do we know. Happy or lonely Happy days or sorrows just casually swept us away, although my heart always tells my heart that legs go away, heart stays Because I have in me beautiful, kind days. WRITING BECAUSE MURDER IS WRONG POSTER. My old day commemorative face is all I can keep in my everyday life that I feel every day. Fright and still have to be present. I love you all because you love me so much, but I’m afraid of life. Well, I’m alive. The thought flashes through my mind. Surprise. Not happy. In the mornings I find myself opening my eyes and still breathing.
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