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Untitled

  • Timothy Wolfgang Truman Petraitis
  • Jan 7, 2019
  • 1 min read

Called back. Like a phoenix pulled back into the flames to perish in the ashes that once symbolized my new life. I am here, alone in the classroom. I am the dry dust that once was a mighty tree, burning brightly in vacation splendor. Now I am gray refuse on the tile floors of a hearth that is Cypress Bay.


 
 
 

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