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Current mood:  cynical
If it could be different, the beasts would infuriate where the least never manipulate.
The raven crow'n at nigh death, a haven drown full of blight.
Give you all perfection, and watch into your destruction forgetting to harken your reflection.
Maybe you'll see the light, the tides so dark to not fight the fire's night.
The tiger crawls below the sun, dagger fallen over the hun, spilling blood like the new tone.
You make your own rules to break: fools to rake blowing mules up the creek.
5:35 AM
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