Thelostboyspoly Stories

ᴸⁱᶠᵉ ⁱˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵍᵒᵉˢ. ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵇˡⁱˢˢᶠᵘˡ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳʸ ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ. "These streets are dark, and blackend with hate, What is there more, that I did cre...