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| Falling snow pricks my face like needles. |
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| With your hand on my arm you stop me to ask; -Why can`t we just be? |
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| I pull my arm away. |
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| We continue on our way. |
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| Later the night I take off the heavy fabric of my pleasantness. |
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| In the morning neither one of us is laughing. |
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| Orange walls are giggling. |
