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For her he swam with sharks (Sonnet) by Shardik

I could not wait to see the Sea. To be broken by her swell. As she does this easily. With her salty rhythmic spell. In my mind I reminisce of playing on her shore. Sunny days of childhood bliss, and tide-pools to explore. But now I do not recognize. These waters I am in Nor the priest sent to baptize beneath his dark-white fin. "The sun bled well today" was all the Sea would say. I was led astray, now beneath her waves I stay.

-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. 29-Apr-03/2:44 PM
What if someone who had a really ugly face died by having their face pulped by a giant face-pulper then the blood splattered against the wall in the exact shape of Van Gogh's Sunflowers? Would that not be beautiful?




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