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i found a note on the ground.
it had neatly folded edges and perfect creases.
surely treasured by it’s author.
i carefully unfolded the paper,
bright red ink, and dried tears, and
twenty-nine words lay on the lines. It read
“cherish these words, for they are my last.
paradise isn’t a place, it’s a feeling,
when you’re actually happy being alive.
i’ve had my paradise, and it’s gone,
so now I will be too.”
i cherished the note for quite some time.
i held it dear for it said what I was afraid of.
the note was mine, and I was the it’s aswell.
now it is my turn to pass on the note. I’ll drop
it’s neatly folded edges and perfect creases.
surely to be treasured by its next owner.