Moonlight splays across a floor, skipping raggedly from one object to another lands on the still figure crouched in the corner thin limbs drawn up, loosely clutching knobby knees with hands coated in paper thin skin one sunken black eye nervously shifts, a clawed finger twitches the freak, the outcast shadow of the night moving restlessly across the floor and waiting for the dawn perhaps then it can find a cure for its curse
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Wings so soft, they curve around and shelter shuddering, the thing blunders mindlessly oh the cold, it is seeping through feathers battered by the wind, encrusted with snow struggling against the gale, its journey of no gain perhaps, when the fray dies and the brown infuses with green, it will find the peace the real angels gloriously sing about
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Oh, deformed one, your heart is true 'neath the gangly limbs eyes forever deep and thin hands eager plunged down by the self-serving, you can fly now no more than a speck before, you are now a universe spinning in the sky above the heads of all, the chrysalis of your past shed wings rustling, as white as light soaring in the sky A shooting star is reborn
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Halloween is Right around the corner.. .
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