EDIT - Someone bumped my thread, just let this die
and dont reply
Aww, Santa strike, for how long I had you, you will be missed by me
Just dedicated to you, I will make a poem
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The death of my Santa strike
The death of my lovely Santa strike
Such an object that expressed exciting emotions for the holidays
and any light remaining was left to rot
And the light wasn't even to be put in a veil to have a chance of survival before entering
the hell of the attack
The tragedy was without warning
and so sudden that it couldn't adapt
Only suffer
And to have my exciting feelings killed
But why did I feel like this?
Why was I in so much pain and suffering?
Because that's all my blind eyes had seen on the dying Santa strike
The feeling was terrible and unbearable
It's the one you get when your friend makes you feel like you done something terrible when you
never committed such an act
It makes you feel so inhuman
That the nicest word that can describe you is demon
If I could have done more to save my Santa strike from this incident
Rip - Santa strike
You will be missed
December/14/2013 - February/24/2014
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