cYSSING
 
 
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Eoi..d1ck 14 FEB a las 10:24 a. m. 
Am I white passing?
tom 24 ENE a las 12:59 p. m. 
just reminding you, that you can come to if you want a based opinion... im here... waiting... uh hello....
Eoi..d1ck 23 ENE a las 3:18 a. m. 
Dey tasteless like dey momma chicken
tom 17 ENE a las 1:07 p. m. 
Feel free to come to me if you want a based opinion
Eoi..d1ck 16 ENE a las 7:44 p. m. 
nyhhhh nyhhhhh persephonyhhhhh
mrSPITEandBILE 14 ENE a las 2:34 p. m. 
The crimson butterflies whispered secrets of the abyss, their wings stained with the blood of forgotten dreams. The moon, a malevolent eye, watched from the skeletal branches of the weeping willow, its gaze heavy with the weight of a thousand curses. I, the keeper of the whispers, danced with the shadows, their icy touch igniting a fire within my soul, a fire that burned with the cold fury of a thousand forgotten winters.

The world, a grotesque puppet show, swayed to the rhythm of the madman's laughter, its strings pulled by unseen hands, their touch cold and clammy. I, the puppet master, pulled the strings of my own demise, weaving a tapestry of madness, its threads soaked in the venom of despair.

And as the dawn approached, painting the sky with hues of despair, I awaited the inevitable, a smile playing on my lips, a smile that mirrored the grotesque grin of the insane.