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One day, when we are old enough, once nobody can define us, and our voices have grown strong. The day our wings can carry us, and we do not have to depend on others perhaps that day we can start our journey to fly and ascend off to the clouds making our own little kingdom with no worries. ↝ wishes of a 10 year old
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Scrabbles
Poetrymatchsticks only go to waste when they are lit and once they are lit their lives are slowly being smothered just like humans sometimes i write nice and sometimes i don't all depends on my head
