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I move, I step, as silent as snow. I grow, I flick, from lit candle wick. I leap, I bound, yet don't leave the ground. I've arms, I've hair, less substantial than air. I pass, I go, with someone I know. I dash, I tumble, but it's never my fumble. |
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never makes noise stretches from light sources always exist on some surface no mass to its form individual to whoever makes it just a reflection so can't be faulted |
