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Two Massive Rockets
They are the only ones who exist to me. I am not the only one that exist to them. Two massive rockets with massive highs and pointy tips. Two who are here and should not be here. Two excuses to fix world peace. From our house we can hear them, but steven just sleeps and doesn't appreciate these things.
There strength is no secret. They send a bold message to the other, “You can’t beat me”. They spiral into the air, reaching great heights, farther and farther. Finlay so high that they must come down. And come down they do, crashing to the ground you can hear their high pitched whistle.
When i look to the sky i keep watching, though they are no more i still wait. waiting to see when the next one will go galloping in the air, with their massive highs and pointy tips, I wait to see when the next will launch. Two who flew despite of the challenge. Two who sore and keep soaring up. Two whose final breath is win win win.
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This is a story about how a boy felt in modern day Volgograd, Russia when the world was at the hight of the cold war conflict