[There are lines from some sort of poem scribbled in the margins of the page. It looks as if it's been scratched out and rewritten several times. It's also looking to be a really terrible poem.]
Your eyes glitter like...diamonds
and the wind flows through your hair like...wind through the branches of a willow tree...
[muttered: This isn't working
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No one.
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More things rhyme with glitter than diamonds anyway.
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[ffff damn flowers ;;]
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