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agonia francais v3 |
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■ Elle aime les tourterelles
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-12-26 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
She was trembling for more than 8 hours now and her blue face matched each curtain of the room. Where’s the frightening euphoria if not in the body of a long lost girl? True in nature, merely a replica as you see her before any door a frosted window might open. She swears undying faith for all the others whether her soft eyes get sharp or nothing else turns to silent anymore. Each hand is frenetically climbing the mirror you would like not to see or touch, but ignore forever; stretching, feeling her wrists attached to their truths denied by her reality. She turns away; she falls before the sky could even begin to trust her and now where’s the sunshine of a mind? Portrayed in a single tear of passion, every piece of existence starts to constantly quiver as if nothing else had a voice; trapped, forsaken in a blue room with white windows that laugh hysterically, she reveals unidentified solutions, but none matter. She broke light into her eyes, her big black eyes which would shake at each appearance of a simple human being and thus she was let loose in a prison without her consent. Where’s the sense in that?
Friday, December 26, 2008 1:37:06 AM
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