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The wind whips through your body, crushes your will, kills your spirit. Demons of black ice chase you down, fury in their shattered snow scraper eyes.
It's been too long since I wrote an actual poem. Phrases, lyrics, verses, whatever they're called, they just don't come to me like they use to anymore. Burdens, mistakes, curses, whatever my excuse is,
Chemistry, man. Maybe it should be ban. Nah, I love that class. Its the most badass. Secretly, I'm a fan.
The greatest curse in the worldis also the greatest gift that youcan give to anyone. It is the gift of creativity,something that cannot be passed downor taught. It is pure and raw imagination.
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