milky, milky tears the children create. children stuff their eyes with cottons, overspilling milk breaks.the old ones on dusty couches preach," do not cry, do not cry over spilt blood." still they cry and cry over spilt blood. no mother, no father : all dead like black birds the witchdoctor kills. milky, milky tears will always rain.
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Sunset
RandomI dive into the sun, searching for peachy summers. ~~~ A collection of distorted short stories.
