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Random First Lines:The boy who died
But feels alive » Read
Writing my memories of my history, another tale comes to play.
About spaghetti growing on trees, And the time I rued the day.
Poetry | Updated Jun 1, 2010 | Reads: 0 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 1
A little boy fell in love with a little girl before she moved away. Years later she's back, but is the love still there? Or is it left on the playground all those years before? Between high school, parents, and the snobby populars, how can they ever reunite? That not so little girl has a plan...