the fog thickens,
my chest tightens,
i search for a way out,
but all paths are gone.
i guess the gray can stay,
and i’ll just go back inside.
it’s easier this way.
it’ll stay this way.
print(poem.title)
# fog.
;
print(textbox_content)
date_posted =
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previous_page =
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next_page =
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