Was the mind that chose freedom over mental braces.
Was the woman that ran far away, past the point of knowing.
Was the bee that stopped on the side of a bench, as its wings grew weary.
Was the man that kissed his date nervously by the station entrance.
Was the hand that held the man to attention.
Was the pen that stopped working at the moment a brilliant idea was formulated.
Clear was this page before I began typing.
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