Stockholm Syndrome



Lady finger, dipped in moonlight, writing "What for?" across the morning sky. Sunlight splatters dawn with answers, darkness shrugs and bids the day goodbye. Speeding arrow, sharp and narrow, what a lot of fleeting matters you have spurned. Several seasons with their treasons. Wrap the babe in scarlet colors, call it your own.


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reciepts: ugh perfection

reciepts:

ugh perfection

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