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He's done crying about his past, He's done crying for Mom having half a heart when Dad passed. The wolves endlessly howl and sigh, The cries of the owls for the astounding starry night sky, Fallen stars the way nightjars have forgotten how to fly. The tears in September are still flowing like a river, And Just like a nocturnal nightjar, He doesn't want to cry forever, But the eyes tear into fragile when he thinks about his future.
