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1ionFang

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    1ionFang reacted to Artisan of Soul for a status update, I am completely smashed and is awesome. I can't control which accent I use and I'm pl   
    I am completely smashed and is awesome. I can't control which accent I use and I'm playing games with my division and we're currently watching movies. Dead Of Winter, Heroes of the Storm BANG!, and StarCraft 2 Risk.
    The dead are quiet, as of current. 
    Aside from my division and a handful of Valucreans, I don't like the living. 
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    1ionFang reacted to Artisan of Soul for a status update, Though one has fallen, it was not me And I would be damned to find death so close. Th   
    Though one has fallen, it was not me
    And I would be damned to find death so close.
    Though one has fallen, twas the base of the tree
    And I have yet to feel morose. 
    Yet in my heart I feel a hollow,
    A victory won yet not yet paid. 
    And in my body I feel a sickness,
    Aebt upon which my wishes are made. 

    So further from this dream I drift
    And wonder if
    Perhaps a Myth
    Or legend synth
    might seek my company. 
    If only to share in my misery. 
    For what is misery without company? 
    A singing hollow victory.

    Upon the winds,
    Heart planting sins
    And leaving the fruit to rot. 

    I smell the air, just standing there.  
    Foreign footsteps upon my soil, they trot.
     
    "What do you see?  What have you made?" 
    A tempting question with an answer never bade,
    But since there is no crop for which I'm especially proud -- if you ask I would have to say out loud 
    "The ones I've sewn are for my Mistress.  They wither and wilt as they please,
    But if you'd wait a while to taste the fruit you'd see they're not as diseased
    as you once imagined."

    But still you deny the work I supply so I settle quietly back into my earth, irked.
    And the voices return with evil ideas that "perhaps it's better community be shirked."
    But am I NO BETTER THAN THAT WHICH HAS FALLEN? 
    A capital-lettered cry continually crackles casting common confusion to those it's not baffled. 
    I mean, frivolous flirting found footing in fasting from emotional rasping so I rose without fear   
    But impractically impassioned with fervent love rationed beyond what the past me could reasonably bear,
    I had youthfully fashioned an emotional assassin to bludgeon the sanctity of sanity: impair.
    And here heralds the half-life of love-life lost lasting without even an asking of mutual care. 

    Then the Bells of Solitude ring, 
    They rejoice!
    Victory!
    though won -- won not fair. 
    And I gaze upon shadows and ledges and blades.
    Not yet,
    Not today,
    But soon too
    I'll be there.
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