MorbidHarlequin [2012-03-19 16:34:27 +0000 UTC]
Dancing in the fog our of own devilish demise. Onto the fridge water we walked. Misty and cold like London’s dark mornings. Stumbling like a blind man along road. Our insides were hollow, but filled with strange feeling that we couldn’t read because of it was dark. Only echoes and rocky ground were the guides that led us as we trod the pathway down. The signs and markers have been hurled to the ground and narrow is the way. Music seemed to faintly dance on the tired wind slowly running, a requiem for our past days… But each step is a way to the new light of day, so keep walking and never give up…
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