The Little Flame Boy

The Little Flame Boy

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Nov 23, 2015
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Poetry
The little flame How was he born If he died He had nothing to mourn He ran into a puddle And tried to step in The puddle then moved She neither had any kin
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She forgot how to love but remembered how to fight. He disregarded where I've been and made who I am.

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