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Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Young girl, ain't got no chances;
no roots to keep herself strong.
she has shed all pretense;
Anticipating that she'll belong.
Some folks call her a runaway;
Others say she's a failure in a race.
But she's affirmed with her direction --
She'll find her way to the Sun, in her arms;
Right back to where she belonged.


She's flying, backwards.

-

Luscious Ryl, ever so pure; Remember to maintain robust and always be strong. =)

musical carousels 1:23 AM

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