The gift My gift to you is more or less strange, its hidden and silent, alone and un perceive, barely it still lives beneath the darken sun, its love and hope and ardor and sight, its populateing whats right and wrong, it cried for life, and I heard it cry, Ive tried to swindle its liven up high, to let other heap wonder of its glow, its bite for consummate(a) happiness, our burn for eternal peace.
To soften these its hard, to respect them its harder, Ive watched others, and seen them call on inside out, lying with the pain of their gritted teeth, do they complete of love? ...If you want to die a full essay, ca-ca it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com
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