I grab the pillow as I scream into it being treated unhappy. There blues was thrown on thick do thick I couldn't breathe alone.
So evil root workers got some hate an
Now I am lucky to be alone they really hate my form. An that I mind my own business but it's not how it should be so now I am not alone in the frame up row of town.

Talking money is crass; so I&#39;m not going to tell you what I made last year.

I’m safe inside this container called me. With a little click, the outlines of this being—me—fit right inside and are locked neatly away. Just the way I like it. I’m where I belong.

Written By Abraham Lincoln

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