She soared from planetary infinity, it wasn't a dependable alignment of rotation.
Even when her spirit released to an estranged projection, she felt alone on a questioning plane.
Eager to search, for it was more secrecy that was created from her sinful carnation.
The stories were enchanting, occult's meditation was a sorrow escape instead of champagne.
Her eyes rendered dreary shards, resentment was carved in her lethal vigilance.
She needed more affection that meets the eye, hollering led to her scarlet wickedness.
Avant grade runnings were her wishful nightmares, bottles could no longer shatter her intuition any more.
Trees defended past her, performing rituals of heavenly bodies, the white dove could no longer cry war.
Damage was operated, the gloomy dove then was imprisoned within a residential demise.
Her caliber didn't feel baptized, especially when an angelic rabbit dies.
Purity was enacted from the rabbit, it's behavior is a proposed heroine from salvation.
It isn't what she wanted, but the rabbit had to run from the white dove's frustration.
Under the dark haven, she used her cloth to wipe away her devious wounds.
Lovable roses were wilting from addiction, they would hurt from more rounds.
She danced with the ghost of loneliness, the rabbit was her best friend.
Friendships were a twisty subject, she never became entangled in a haystack with them.
Unblinking, there soon was a good thing coming.
A pretty smile engaged on her pale profile
Resurrection wasn't possible, but the lucid drippings of escaping were.
A great land was awaiting her, it was a cure.
Her hand was extending, like she was guiding someone to paradise.
An invisible hand clenched her, and pulled into a new depth, she was circling around winged apologies.
The realm appeared to her morbid eyes.
Purple and pink clouds ran through the yellow sky, creating a gift of suspension of dull.
Soft, warm winds were pointing in the westward direction to the nearest lake.
She endured tasty mushrooms with a fluorescent tip of pop.
Her unrelenting sways gave her fragrant, useless brews, she endured black glances.
On her journey, she met beings believed to be unbelieved from propagandized teachings.
For even evil figures posed righteous deeds for her lustful trances.
The lake finally submerged to her aching, bare feet, water drifted through her spine.
She heard beautiful singing around her which felt beautifully demonic.
Mermaids appeared out of the water, their singing would come out of their eyes.
They flew out of the water, and spun around in circles.
It was magnificent.
Their eyes were full of remorse, they told her they didn't want her to grieve.
She didn't belong, she could handle it.
They touched her forehead, and she is back under the tree.
Mourning isn't what the rabbit wanted.
A feather won't fly forever, she needed to be there to help it transcend.
Many moons later,
Her and the dove evolved into a brand new company of bondage.
Life will eventually continue, she learned to follow its path.

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