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Half-awakened poetry rant time (becuase I'm to tired to wait without sleeping):
Half-awakened, half-asleep, without a head or a heart. The man in the corner he killed my body, a lifeless heap In exchange for the chest, the key, the chart A mourner must he be. But the dead who aren't rising, hate this living dead. and fill the mourners with dread. till the misericorde rises up from the deep, and the man himself falls half asleep. |
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Gawddamnit! We have no towels, so I can't shower even though I want to... Maybe I can use my sister's shower... SHE'LL have towels...
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@seri thanks. <3 I really wasn't thinking it through to much when I wrote it out. I'm just pulling out stuff that I've seen and tweaking it (more like remodeling it) to make a story.
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