| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - ence still lingers.I keep hoping and praying, that you will turn around and apologize,Take me into your arms, and tell me that it will be different.That you love me and that you are sorry.I hold my breath and soon I can tell that you are not going to turn around...The wind sweeps the hair out of my face and I drop my head.Again the brutal silence,The wind is a voice in my mind, and it whispers to me,'Fo
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