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#18 |
Sent to the cornfield
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You may be stronger than edward, you may be faster than edward but every punch you throw will be stopped by a mysterious force, every kick diverted, every bite stayed. You walk away..depressed morose... why couldn't you win, you had trained so long, and you lost your chance and for nothing. Except it wasn't. As you lay in the dark you are haunted by a memory of a smile, of a longing glance, of sunshine disintergatng your heart
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