City Mythic
As if there is a grace to wrong again, forget again, or even gaze. Where in the spin of atoms is my comfort or truth for it?
If one little adjustment could say that this is the peak of more then should I become accustomed?
I am fond of the chalice and the depths it holds. Shallow hardly the thought of it.
A cinnamon of feeling or bitter memory which pair for your seasoning?
Fractured accost should make a coat that leaves a hanging compliment. Flair for the approach.
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