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Andrew [Poem]
I return, no longer a teenager but armed with teenage angst.
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Grief is my edge. Protracted
From it: Spilled and obscuring:
Desire, sadness, wrath-envy-hatred
Humans fade, the earth fades
but life remains, bound by these.
But if there is love-
but in its absence-
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“Lots of ways to help people. Sometimes heal patients; sometimes execute dangerous people. Either way helps.”
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