I very much feel sorry for the tearful ******, who gave her martyrdom as a gift to someone she loved best: and the soul of her fragile, blessed heart dreaded a thousand ominous horrors, even fire, though she had learned early on: Deception, rejection, and suffering. Outside, a charming smile was hidden on the fit child's face, - I guessed the swirling dying of tears then - in his star-cherished, proud eyes, the cosmos emptiness conceived because of his sorrows!

Selfless, angelic goodness was his most miraculous antidote, and while comforting others with a vulnerable mood perhaps, he always seemed to comfort himself a little, and the self-forgotten, heavenly smile: It was a nuclear explosion of stars than when planets more valuable because of irresponsible recklessness!

And now he was unstoppable, in order of war, he also marched against the tide of bullets of our tears, and every single whistling, hissing sigh wounded his ashes, hollow face. "I was very sorry for the tearful ******;" my bleeding heart sunk into lethargy that I had to see through the veil of cleansing tears, his broken desires and dreams!

But I would have comforted the poor then and there! I would have kissed the queen eggs of her feet even more — the blood was only gradually throbbing like a volcanic eruption! We would have comforted each other with a love of selflessness: You and Me!
"But the traces of the lost, happier times also died with the curse of a secret and quiet monotony: And only your constellation shines on me from a distance of billions of years of loneliness holes, up there in the vast space of the empty mourning sky!"