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Comments about Anthony Chmelik
Suicide. Jeus. Hope.
The gentle winter breezes flow like cool December streams,
Her hair waves gracefully in the wind as if she were in a dream.
Flakes of snow float all around,
It’s her, she swears that they surround.
Tears of hurt softly roll down her cheeks.
Like liquid diamond, from her eyes they leak.
Her scarlet lips tremble.
Her heart is thin, like crystal.
Who is there, but no one to care for her?
She is all alone with no one there for her.
Her sorrow makes her tearful,
Such a night, might end fateful.
Her hope seems evanescent,
and life ...