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Is it in the nature of men to find scars on their weary vessels? The festered skin is filled with the indignities of free doves flying past the horizons above your own; the decay of human soul is all too familiar. Torture knows its way across beasts who have fallen out of slumber, for beasts only exist in worlds where sleep is sand and dreams are made of fog. Only the madness of facing the light can break open a shambled boat.
And we are no less human were we to scuttle away from the duality of light. How it plays with the follies of our kind! The apocalypse of fire without warmth, it takes the sky out of picture and into question. “What would creatures of this existence become when they touch the frigidness of light, the absence of heat within something illuminated?” They find, perhaps, their antagonistic tendencies riling up inside their stomachs. All I am is now pure energy, the same that makes light fear itself. After all, what is clarity without image? @Daaje.
BY 2D ROLEPLAYER.
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