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Literature Text
I still stand on my front porch,
waiting for some Romeo to descend.
But, if only I could realize that I wasn't meant to be a fairytale,
the sooner I'd know that the lovers die in the end.
waiting for some Romeo to descend.
But, if only I could realize that I wasn't meant to be a fairytale,
the sooner I'd know that the lovers die in the end.
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