Milan sits in the hard plastic chair that forms a piece of the poetry circle that happens after class in the english room. The group is a motley bunch of breeds and styles, the most prominent color in the line of clothing being black. she clears her throat, strumming her guitar as she prepares to sing the poem she had put chords to. "My life is like a rose. my petals fall as i go on. your love is like the sun. it sees me through till my days are done." she pauses "that's all i have for now."
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12/06/2025