May
And so now it comes to pass by the even tide of mass see them gather yet alas they remain still as stained glass for they know only too well that the story they will tell conjures up an ageless spell
Sleep is too quiet dreams are too painful truth is the bed of this ocean of lies. Sinking through layers of untouched oblivion soaking from spirits but still far too dry. Losing all barbed fences Luci
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