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Sans Voiceover.
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Poems A fork in the road.
Progress or hindrance?
A right decision.
A wrong decision.
The light waiting to be switched on,
or else the darkness within.
Like a Moth dancing round pretty flames,
who really ought to know better.
Teased.
Tormented.
Spoiled for choice, and so starving.
You cannot see the winds many changing colours,
not when a person is so blind.
There is no narrator for this story,
and you alone must choose the tone of its telling.
