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| Ther blackest gift poem |
created @ 10/6/2008 11:32 pm |
mum expired. [FRIENDS] |
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the blackest gift
It is a night of darkness, a song of sorrow, wolves vent their cry. The eternal one wakens.
Darkness shrouds her deathly form, an eternal desire.
Her black hair cascades over pale and delicate shoulders, and her full blood red lips part slightly, to taste the blood streaming from the pale flesh beneath her.
Now a night of ecstasy, I thirst.
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