I love to have people on them, but they return only thorns and sharp hand that hurt me. But I have to wait for death, and love to eat a bite, keep alive. I covered my mouth, black may not mention any wording. Parted my hair white as a sign that death is approaching. Do I look like a freak, people, but whether they were freaks, too. They are different and I'm waiting for death. We are afraid of the world after death, whether to be happy or feel gloomy and depressed distress fairy Angel undeniably undeniably hell. Then we may not be a hole at all.
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