Still, 2021.
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Still
I couldn't let go.
Months passed.
The green slime began to stink;
a bird fell out of the sky.
And in the background
Tom's voice kept echoing:
Who will put flowers
on the flower's grave?
Still, 2021.
Still
I couldn't let go.
Months passed.
The green slime began to stink;
a bird fell out of the sky.
And in the background
Tom's voice kept echoing:
Who will put flowers
on the flower's grave?
