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A small Alaskan town Enveloped in a calm, magical mist Where everyone grew up on a steady diet of Chocolate brown X-tra Tuffs, playing outside until dark descended, and rain that never stopped
To my friend, my cousin. You represent someone who is exactly what I wanted in a father figure. My real dad is afraid of everything, and has a hard time being supportive.
I come from a small island People here get comfortable, They know their neighbors, They fish, They hunt, They pass down stories for generations, School isn’t always important.  
How beautiful is the world from where you are?  Do you see the hate and the disarray? Or do you only notice the gradual spin of the green and blue marble?
  Four grainy timber walls Topped by a nondescript brown roof. Physically utilitarian, recreational in purpose. An ice fishing shack.   It is a perfect convenience
Tears and Blood Shed in the night She is cold, And she’s alone. For why she cries, So many have died And she fears the fate For her own. He hits her, When she’s crying.
I like radio static and sleeping by rivers in a tent, with wood smoke as my blanket and campfire glow as my pillow.
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