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Saturday, August 26, 2017

Great men are gone

All great men are gone... in them place a small man stands
Siting on a small park bench.. looking down to the ring in his hand
He tries to be brave but he feel so weak
for a hand on his shoulder is what he was seek
but no.. now please.. 

let the wind stop so the leaves can lay on the ground
let the marching band past without making a sound
He wish you were here.. 

because without you glowing up is his greats fear.