circus of verbose foliage

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circus of verbose foliage


sighed the void, it's all too familiar. tiny tweaks over a year's occurance leave phantom writings watching from the crowd.

I could weave fantasy about lemon blue codominance and how he'll probably never care for me, about the love I once felt safe in the arms of, about a growing heart with an upstairs floor.

regardless of its name, it has always been the same.

and here we are, beckoning to you. front row tickets to a barely sold show, hidden silhouettes crowding in the back of the room darkened.

please, enjoy the show.

(A/N: and so we begin again.)

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