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if to be naught but a second and then not at all and fight the fiercer for the dream that plagues my distraught mind.



i beleive buety can't be measured can it? becuase ther are days when i see a demon with angel wings, she curses herself for the color she bleads and trys to hide her wings beneath a dark velvet sheath of fleash, she doesnt except the dancing shadows in their ever present semblence.