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* Poetic-Destination > Topics
mort
200 feet up, on a window ledge. Looking down on the town puts your nerves on edge. You've passed the point now, of no returning, your pulse is quickening, your stomach is churning. Your heartbeat pounds, as you glance around, you hope to die before you hit the ground, and which way are you going? To heaven, or hell? What fate will befall your mortal shell? (Continues...)
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