Fling me please:

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Tiny morsels of hope spreading,

Through her entire being,

And Psychics weren’t wrong,

Were they?

Two more weeks,

Only two more weeks of this misery!

And then she would meet him,

The man of her dreams,

And, oh, if only,

She had a dollar for,

Every time she’d believed them!

Where else was hope to come from?

If she could fling herself through time!

But alas, that was how her life had vanished thus far.

she wishes to turn back the hands of time to when he was hers - loving her, making love to her, writing poetry to her mona

 

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