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Monday, 30 November 2015

Poem

The room was Dark
When I walked through the door
I notice the moldy walls
And the broken draws
The ceiling was dark brown

The parts were starting to fall down
I held my nose
cause I couldn’t bare the smell
It was so bad I wanted to go
mysterious room, must grab the broom. Sweep the floor, sweep the door wishing to restore, this lovely house that used to be poor

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