My stories, written by a per say loud in harks, convey the truth of an eerie adventure, scribbled down its view by marks, states of life inked, dangling true reality; shown its fault: barks of brown leaves.
These fresh ideas, done all in clear conceptions being attempted in my mind's workshop, having thoughts, they would win, set for top target; all go below, got low review fact to stop: the bad.
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