ant5

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a few trolls

hold on in

the wet pockets

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even where

you spit

life

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left to

the witches

the burnt spoon

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the blue stone

the onion grew

around

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you find

your finger

still tastes bad

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the note says

don’t touch

the skeleton

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the hens

are fighting

over grains of rice

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too early today

fumes from

the gas can

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