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Wind Shouter

Into her evening tides younger than morning delivered on dusty wings arms of the wind its mortal voice, a howling thing awful and wondrous chaos exciting birds to rise on sleeping wings of dawn Great sweeping shadows joyously aroused breaking … Continue reading

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~songs~ – Tom (WordWulf) Sterner

She gets up every morning She drinks a cup of coffee There‚Äôs a face inside the mirror & a thousand broken pieces The cold moon surely freezes all hope attends the rainbow & life just passes by cold winter eyes … Continue reading

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