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I haven't written (bad) poetry since high school, but then my best friend went and died on me after 16 years of being my missing puzzle piece and participant/encouragement/instigator to all of our shenanigans. He was born with a broken spine, but he never let it slow him down. It doesn't have a title yet. Born broken but lived full. Never say die. Did you know? Too soon. Gone. Come back. We weren't done. left_unattended fucked around with this message at 16:23 on Nov 14, 2018 |
# ¿ Nov 14, 2018 16:18 |
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# ¿ Apr 17, 2024 23:02 |