We; cut by the blade; icy, blood stained tears trail through landscapes of where forgiveness belongs.
Stitched up by the tapestry of the sun; a clock keeps time of light that signals us on.
Retaliation sirens call from dark alley corners.
Left or right? Up or down?
Heart songs play - listen with ears as your pores that make up your being.
Soul - justify that death. Turn and turn in the dance of the hurricane to form that tangible, majestic truth.
Sheilds of glaring light reflect blades; ceaselessly, effortlessly and always, always, always without a single scratch.
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