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May 2014
The brimstones golden hunger, and leaking thoughts, the creeping delver lingers, haunts. Swelling faith, like flame to moths, truth re echoes like the sting of wasps. Cloaked man, from another land, faultlessly faithful in dying truth. Unhappy sinner, begs for refuge. Stirring again his thin sole shoes.
Quinton Horras Yard
Written by
Quinton Horras Yard  The Midwest
(The Midwest)   
1.9k
 
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