She knew me like the back of her hand and played me like a skilled violinist. Then broke me to pieces like a rock star smashing his guitar on stage at rock concert. – Bradford Mace
Just a fictitious person who faintly exists like a smudge on the page of a dusty old history book, no one cares to read. Like a shadow fading away as the sun goes to sleep between the clouds covered under the sheets of the stary night sky. Like a vapor lasting for a brief moment […]
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