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47 The Boy Who Lived Alone Boomeranged catapulted like an arrow in a bow buoyed like a yoyo he stands alone; held by an ancient silence words timelessly detained in his dry throat his sad angry eyes crawl behind his curly eyelashes unseeing, unfeeling, uncaring no third eye could redeem him now he, the lost son of woman, and the boy who lived alone wonders: ‘Is life worthy living?’ ...

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