School
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in the sea of desks there's talk of bags and games and long pipes that leak dreams with the strike of a match and there's a loudness to whispers I hear. Whispers shouldn't be that loud should they?
there's a girl over there who everyone knows and men without ears would stand by the door for a price.
in long hall ways: there are angry mobs of doors and rats and one single angel.
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A/N:
I really liked this piece→the angel is the girl.
shirsha.
