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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Death · #2002309

Freedom, what is it, when its nowhere to be seen?

Our Fight for our freedom. For those that have been punished for nothing more than voice in of itself.
Our Fight, is death itself. We march to our death. Yet we still accept it because every bit of liquid on the ground, is blood spilled for freedom. Maybe I'm a wishful thinker and people can never change but . . .  maybe, just maybe . . .
If somebody finds this, know that Our Fight, lives on with you. One for freedom.
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