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Shores
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Angola
to mind, to tend, the riches.
to mend and find plum, in awe.
missile strands the outline,
finessing paths to the outside.
always with the problem sets,
never to dwell.
but dwelling in just wondering
what time will show and tell.
but should we choose to stay inside too long, i will write.
you never write.
you'll never write.
you're never right.
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