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.. o’ swaying willow trees lowered branches covering me.i was so icy without thou, thou were so green overmore gentle granted me oxigen and shade, bowing gently as respect yet separated feeling moe than praise which was also separated as the wind astonishment the brow felt the wind beneath the starry welken. ‘tis been four days now and my liver moves as a butterfly the park that anyone wants to bear or pursue. hence allow us hope they join out brighter and moe beautiful than aye. as the butterfly emerged from its cocoon, raised mine own tattered wings into the welken condemning the flaws, throwing aroint all doubts, shedding mine second skin half–truth thrown by words so drawn to its own destruction. at a time that had restrained for three hundred days, by a quill that seemed ne’r to end, inhibited the thoughts mine pate. withal a new smile mine melancholy, took new strength mine arms, and lifted mine wings and then took myself on a new flight. the glittering and mitely orb are,
the two visions of mori butterflies;
regulations,
master–police.
then an additional of toppings;
manips,
telegram premium.
moodboard custom,
ready.
whose larvae feed towards the darkness of the night like white mulberry trees, leaving light holes towards the forgotten silk road. where butterflies are aknown of their beauteous, the charming way which they fly, or where they compare themselves to each insect wondering would they should’st encave their colorful wings with dye. where they admire the softness of
@eunlocked their soothing patterns, softness overmore lightness or where they regard there is something wrong with’ em if there could something broken with their size.
