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baskadia

Baskadia

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Named

FreeWriting

Broken attique vessel

Seeing myself with every piece scattered in the room. Before I was valued,praised for it's beauty but now am nothing but just a dangerous weapon. They pick me up only to trash me because they are afraid that my sharpness would make their legs to bleed. I don't blame them because I know that my own weight led to my downfall. I wish I had been lighter that day maybe he wouldn't have smashed me to the ground. Nothing is more unrealistic than the thought of self repair. All that see me live me there

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