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A winter Blossom
Sun creeps over the trees slowly lighting this room I've
only just met.
The wind is the only voice that dares speak and believe
me I've listened to its sultry voice.
Cars only dare run if nessecery.
"Good Morning" not "Thanks for nothing"
"Coffee" not "Whiskey!"
"Goodnight" and no longer passing out for pain.
Their only greeting is a smile, true and warm not full
of blood lust and drunken rage.
Here its Quiet...
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