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This is me leaving my poetry on the edge of a warzone. All scars and jagged skin, the letters seeping into the orange and white stained land, the air sucked out of them only to end up as stars in the sky.

I told you about the swords, the tears and the despair but forgot about the hope and the love they are carrying in their soul. So I will let you take the torch and set you free, to pen down their life. No sorrow will suffice, no joy enough, but under the moonlit night your heart must finish what my heart started.

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