

Means to an EndA means to an end. The white, the black, The dark, the light, Take their sides.Means to an End
The space between, That grey that is The sad reality of this mess Called life.
Looping around and around, Birth Life Death Rebirth And again, again, again.
The soldiers lift their swords And add to the torrential Voids of the mess, But the poet, He unsheathes his mighty pen And writes it all away.
Then pens anew
The means to a beginning.
my dog

NamesNamesNames
What is a name other than a tool used to bind ones self?
Just look at a thing whizzing around in the skies free from any worries. You call it a bird and give it form and outline; move it closer to the earth, for even birds have limits
Call it a hummingbird and you make it small, fragile. You force it to move fast and eat, to prevent death from clipping its wings.
Now look at man and all the names we call each other. See how they mold and shape us. Look at what we become.
Death need no
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rawr :B
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Make a reploid happy, leave a comment. If you don't, then you make a sad reploid, and a sad reploid is a step away from an angry reploid, and an angry reploid is a rock's throw away from a nasty Maverick.....
Dear god...the cute...it's so...eeeevil...
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[my gallery] [my scraps]
Sometimes we let our wounds speak in our place.
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"So utterly at variance is destiny with all the little plans of men..."
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deviation is not as fun as it seems
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