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Summary
Poetry has always been a soothing painkiller, little words knitting together to form wonderful meanings. Even if Blue’s insignificant poems pale in comparison to the art form as a whole, it brings comfort. There’s a—forgive Blue for the pun—rhyme and reason, something for Blue’s mind to latch onto if work can’t do the trick.
But this? This constant want? A virus utterly ruining Blue beyond repair.
Series
- Part 2 of Blime has ruined me 👍👍
