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November 15, 2003
Green lined shelves of words upon words darkened the musty halls of misconception. Cobwebs created silver gossamer silk draped across a questionable truth. The walls shook in thundering waves and sadness drained from skin of regret. Where did all the monkeys go, the scampering dreams of playful laughter, the sparkled eyes of a loving touch across a coloured sky. The dancing imp scraped a ragged fingernail against a heart fallen in sorrow and drained the innocent blood from hopeful care. Where do the words go when there is no-one left to read them, wilted in damp pages across deadened minds.