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Little hands they have, my sister Born from Mountains and blackest coal Created by those that so proud, dig for righteous living in dark holes   Little minds they say, my brother
It smells like coal my mother says "Reminds me of my childhood," she says Reminds her of family reunions Ashland, KY formerly a place of gathering (It is now a ghost-town living up to its name)
Dust drifts down, and for a moment, it resembles the dance of white snow. Caused by a large boom, the dust falls and crashes into the top of houses, trees, and people. Some dust lingers in the air and shrouds everything in sight.
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