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Emma Potter Apr 2015
Ember evanescent lashes put and is in horriabke conditions to tiffnay trying to do someth in ng mice and gettting punished by a HP poet lashout?I wi,t b e surprised if embers folliwers lower.this is her recent lash

"Ember Evanescent   Dec 2, 2014
Well, tbh Im not "happily" changing. I find no joy in losing what I clinged to for so long then watching as my internal demons demolish all that I ever loved and im not changing at the same speed as anyone I just watch as my life that I cared about alters and crumbles, there is no beauty in a changing world and myself if that change stems from a disease of the mind that melts away all hope." speaking poetry language jn which tiffany loves is ember trying to ease the pain or make it worse?
Two lashouts NOT ACCEPTIABLE TIFFNAY GOLD WANTS TO HAVE FRIENDS AND FOLLOWERS NOT JUST PEOPLE WHO PRESS LIKE ON RANDOM POEMS!!!!!!!!!!!!=-O =-O =-O =-O =-O =-O =-O =-O =-O :~ :-$ :-)):-} :-* :-} >:) :'( :-\ :-\ :-[ :-( :-$ :' -(
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
Attendees at the game of the gods,
come in three
Pythogorean sorts:
First kinds are the lovers of wisdom,
the second are the lovers of honor and
the third are the lovers of gains. 
----------------
Ah, now, now

There is a demon
of the old kind attempting me
to lashout
my flagella and wipe my competitors from the stream
in this
only race that counts,

first and only, no second place in this race
to pass
through
into the egg, where life, as we know it begins.

All I brought, my entire being
as a cellulate entity with a will to win, is absorbed into
her.

Here, she perfects that which concerns me,
my will is done. I won.

Or did the others fail? Should I have slowed and let
another pierce this egg

and marvel at its works, while I am left useless forever?

Nay, or why would I retain this will to win?
Or this will to
calmly carry on, knowing now, this final phase in the course
of compleat being becoming,

slow and steady sets the pace,

right

up to now, k-pow, push meets shove and I win again,
recalling the joy when
I, the wiggly carrier of all that made me possible,

pass through your attentive staring, sorting egg-eye
maybe,

osmotical magical silliness wells up in me.

I was chosen. Or formed to fit, this
complex knot
lock meet for me, the key
ingredi-ant,

in ever stories provoking old men to grow on.
----------
Strange though it be, true,
Isaac Bashevis Singer inspires me, with words he left behind
for just this reason.

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IsaacBashevisSinger>
Shorter breaths, longer steps

— The End —