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Last year, your murder went cold,

no one could-

find your rotting, dismembered carcass lying in the woods behind your own house marinated in a foul smell

The months and the years go by and your loved ones still try to figure out why this could happen to them

They use your death as a reason to practice their cries and act like they're not selfish inside

If they really loved you (why would they?)

They would've never stopped looking (they grow tired of waiting)

For you to come back yourself