An ancient exciting and expressive writing feather. Well, I like to be modest. True, I do admit. The smile has come, and it whispers goodbye. It leaves with the seasons, leaving the dead to die. As the world travels, from end to end of my mind, a wonder true turned, to a lonesome burden, my lips are stolid, burned. Happiness, a good sin. I fear for my flight, for my wings may d.

Thoughts, when they come to me. About Myself, and Why My Blog is Named So. Let me explore the deep black skies in your eyes. Let me run wild on the great plains of your chest. Let me marvel at your rough, strong hands. And their many million stories to tell. I will take you to a place where you can heave your sighs of relief. I will take your fears and give them wings and we will watch them fly away.

Vazii CrItIkE TouT EsT PeRmI. Sa tE fAiT Du BiEn. On EsT DeS PuTes 3. Ba ecOUtE On eT JuStE pAs CoInCeR Du Cu cOMmE CeRtAiNE. Et pOuLeTtE On Se La pEtE. MaIs On En Et fIeRe Ta Le sEuM sA Te FaiT Ragé kE sA nS FaSE pa ChiEr.

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