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Spring in the air feeling crisp on my skin, breathing it in. Run down the lane, over the clifftop to end all the pain and the air on my skin drifted out, drifting into unconsciousness. Conscious only of that long lonely drop. The drunken Angel despite no wings flings caution aside and comes along for the ride. I dream of flying and dying too, but never died yet and hardly flew, few do anyway. Tragic when the magics stop off the cliff at the bottom of the drop. But it's all a trap that's set to get the body count high and who in their right mind would try to fly on such a windy day. The thief would want to steal my tears unmask me and unwind my years, the Angel and I have a few more beers and head for the clifftop again.
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
The blind Venetian
Spring in the air feeling crisp on my skin, breathing it in. Run down the lane, over the clifftop to end all the pain and the air on my skin drifted out, drifting into unconsciousness. Conscious only of that long lonely drop. The drunken Angel despite no wings flings caution aside and comes along for the ride. I dream of flying and dying too, but never died yet and hardly flew, few do anyway. Tragic when the magics stop off the cliff at the bottom of the drop. But it's all a trap that's set to get the body count high and who in their right mind would try to fly on such a windy day. The thief would want to steal my tears unmask me and unwind my years, the Angel and I have a few more beers and head for the clifftop again.
john-edward-smallshaw
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
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