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Ignoring the tragic, my gift and my curse bound with electrical tape and a pretty red bow. Packing my dreams away for viewing another day. A day when my antics are laughable and appear for entertainment purposes only. I'm tired of being the runaway, the gypsy in the night. Disappearing before you could memorize the sound of my eyes. Left with a memory a flash and a smell. I have them all gathered on color coded cards. Bring a heavy rope and solid conviction that this is yours. Millions of words saturated in opaque shadows. How is a girl ever supposed to see the sun.
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