| Trickling rain drops flow across a fogged window, as he stared into the abyssal night; alone, and cold. The window pane rapped ever so slightly with the motion of the wind, reflections of tears flowing from his eyes reminding him he was still human, and that he could still feel emotion, even with his whole body being numb. lightning scarred the night sky, lashing out, as he remembered how he had gotten where he was. |







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Thankyou *sensia101 for fixing my icon!!!
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Poetry comes from the soul, by writing, you allow those who will never know you, see pieces that even you can't see.
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visit my gallerie [link]
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Poetry comes from the soul, by writing, you allow those who will never know you, see pieces that even you can't see.
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"We are the world and we are the people and we will be heard."
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