And it was as knife smashing through the glass vase filed with tender gels of healing makers dwells.
belief and faith knows no boundaries, yet fate often commands destruction and acceptance of it. would you have done the same knowing the outcome would be that of the fate written? Would it be possible to quench this sour slime of our social intimacy towards bitter sweet reconciliation? rude you. rude to them who cradles you, just of hurt them else pay scouring price. please not inate thyself to a saint as thine actions of innocence slices the very wholesome feed that cared-the hand that protects and the sheilds.
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