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Amanda There is a girl I know. She is a friend. Not a great friend, but a friend. She is a sweet girl, a pretty girl. Her name is as sweet and as pretty as she is. Her name is Amanda. She comes to me and embraces me like friends would, and like friends should. She is troubled. She is downtrodden. What do I do? I tell her that all is well. I tell her that she can count on me whenever times are hard. I am always there. And I embrace her back like friends would, and like friends should. She puts her head on my shoulder and weeps. She cries the tears of an innocent child. I comfort her; I console her. She is a friend. A great friend. |
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