I’ve got a problem, I suppose. And I don’t know how to solve it. Put the striped beanie on, it keeps your head fairly cozy. I could easily traverse the dangers of a filthy dungeon with a 10-foot pole. This pole, cold to the touch. Gray, it never ever, never flinches. A blue Grinch itches for unlawful infringement. Family is always there – unlessss family is hair, which fares to fall in time of withdrawal without care. The sweat begins to drip from nowhere. Nowhere, except the edges of the loose beanie, which is accompanied by an array of color with no meaning. A gray pole is long, but weight is its disadvantage. Thus, it has no advantage at all. Instead, it is judged based on its true use – which is infinite in descriptions, so desolate in disfigurement. Closed caskets, bonded by the hell-fires of masked baskets of a life, oppressed and drastic.
~That Dude Eddie~
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Love and Peace.