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the time for love,
for happiness, is dead. along with his soul, his body left mutilated, with the scars of hatred, the marks, of the outcast. he was gone, but shall linger on, caught, between heaven and hell. the tolling of bells, not a sign of joy, but rather the symbol, of his death, of his passing. christmas wishes, turn to condolences. remembering the boy, he once was. but i am gone, along with him, holding hands. caught, between heaven, and hell. |
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