Murdered by my own ink

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https://wanderingfoodie.com/amandas/ http://citydebate.com/2025/08/17/6qnhj8tkp I am just a number within an army of unlucky ones, https://momentumptmt.com/migraine-relief-course/ killed by the poison of their own ink, https://scmlclub.com/events/2024-12-08/ and the stupidity of their own fingers

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https://spinwheelsresults.org/rm6dnu6m By Iqbal Tamimi

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The ports of my papers, are fields of uncertainties. Tramadol Prices I plant my anchor https://apsonlineacademy.org/bookstore/ to secure my old face Order Tramadol while it ages toward oblivion. https://medical-royal.com/angiography-pack/ My dream is stretching Order Tramadol Online Without Prescription between a place Klonopin For Sale Online under the umbrella of the wind, and https://citydebate.com/eventsandmeetings/2018-04-16?ical=1 an illusion under the rain. Order Tramadol Overnight The distance https://wanderingfoodie.com/xochimilco/ is . . . too far http://citydebate.com/2025/08/17/8uqvo24zvmt to arrest the dead man, who crucified me
in a hideous, unthinkable moment.
I am just a number within an army
of unlucky ones,
killed by the poison of their own ink,
and the stupidity of their own fingers,
slaughtered by despair.
Our traps
race us in our sleep,
to attend a wedding
between the rain and the desert.
Our pains . . . twitter
While we assassinate ourselves,
hoping some one;
not one of us
will rise
to write a better dirge
while watching the skittering feet of the poor
following their own footprints,
forgetting the phantoms behind,
to the side,
on some other route,
swarming with the dust of honor,
as we abandon our bevy
to increase our number
by . . . one.

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