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Literature Text
In my dreams,
I am a fluttering thing,
attached to nothing - the memory of some child's hand on my string.
Around other people,
I can pretend everything's all right.
I am a fluttering thing,
attached to nothing - the memory of some child's hand on my string.
Around other people,
I can pretend everything's all right.
One spring day, I had a balloon. One fall day, I had a lover.
No more.
No more.
Comments4
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Everything will be alright. But don't take it from me.