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bittersweet symphony

so pretty in disguise

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like a bowl of oranges.
Your eyes must do some raining if you are ever going to grow. But when crying don't help and you can't compose yourself. It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or a simple song of hope.

like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.
Love's uneven remainder, our lives are fractions of a whole. But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall. Then I think we would see the beauty then.

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