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Friday night

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The forging

It’s strange how routine invades, Makes even the most bitter event feel somehow okay again. Changes things, Smoothing them into the way they’ve always been again. I am a blade, Honed by hands wiser In the forges of my destiny Each blow that lands Meant to strengthen Until finally, I am dipped in the oil…
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Blue Monday

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Saturday night
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Strength
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Artists

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Inner warmth

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Monday the 13th
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Sunday memories
