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The words remain telling the story of pain and sorrows, hopes and wishes, simulated in the heartbeat of the soul, her dream that the lights of the morning sun would be ink writing the end of a story of tears screaming under the wing of a bird sleeping on the mountaintop aching from his tears to my tears; As it is a waterfall roaring from it to the foot of the mountain, the flowers are overwhelmed by the most distant butterflies, and sadness is still roaming around the place.
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