Days of summer suns spent basking in the glory of youthful delight. Chilled winds of winter blown and crisp the leaves crumble beneath the passing of time as the days so warm give way to tomorrows coldness, if briefly winter ends, sunshine peaks yet again, hearts beg of thee, let this day not end, let suns burn indefinite, the long dark morrow never breathe again upon me, and if gods see fit, May Death Come Quickly and on swiftest wings. |
Devious Comments
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My style is my own. Who else's should it be?
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