Given to my obsession of gray skies and as the forest now lay penniless, neath trees of a dark scowl on hinges of rusted wrought of time. As my beautiful muse of the fallows re-flames my soul with kindle desire, kissing my brow with loving lips, I reap the sins, I have fallen. But now as my quill lay barren, my words have crumbled to dust as we caravan to the other side, making love on
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