The pressure on my podiatry tells me I should stop. Ankle blisters, and disquiet usually make me drop. It's ok, I insisted on walking. It's the only thing I can count on. You won't believe the things I've seen on my walk. I don't think I believe them too. It's crazy how anxious I got. this could never be true. You'd say it's purple, but it's more of a lilac. I'll never see your face the same again. If you say it's purple, it's more of a pitch black. The girl I saw before me is dead. What kind of precursor is the lilac image burned in my mind? What kind of precursor is the track of trepidation inside? What kind of precursor is the rope that hangs where you reside?
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