| poem |


The Center Of It AllBeauty is a type of clay, Something for the hands to mold and play.The Center Of It All
At first it is not filled with rocks and dirt,
But with innocence it reflects. Seeing the different aspects of life.
Seeing things wither and die, Beauty is happiness and it's joy of life.
It is not what the hands expect it to be. Although they knead and they knead Eventually the hands will plead. Slowly the clay will listen.
Being molded into a thing of perfections.
But can't you silly people see? Can't you just let it be?
Beauty is a perfect imperfe
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the feelings that I have are the proof that I'm alive
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But suppose the case were otherwise, what would it avail? the question is not, Can they reason?, nor Can they talk? but, Can they suffer?- Jeremy Bentham
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SPEL CHEK (:
WARNING: This siggy contains high amounts of nuts and traces of milk product.
i dont know why it didnt turn into a real stamp....
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I bite Vampires. Rawr.
visit my gallery anytime
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In this world where the wind blows like a knife.
What is it that I should protect?
COMMISSIONS ---> [link]
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hello people of deviantart!
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