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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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Words
we have not heard intrude as unintended ashes. Unheard words life long obsession we follow these without ever grasping. From every corner we feel a distance white crows black out our brightest days. We pretend to be broken, at last afraid of what would ultimately crawl. In a moment we all begin to ponder why to capture words one would never hear. Great strength in silence that makes us, white crows would soon assume their true colour.
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