When purity ends the cycle begins of rainless days and droughtful spins to fall beneath to cast a wreath in time for more excitement stored ..at one time then life seemed to win and take u by the hand , if not by demand, but still the will was built, the still was filled to infiltrate that grew upon us as of of late empowered catatonic state as passive can the water flow its burying the denser loads of loathing lust and liberal lost aloft in charge, upon what’s on ,upon what’s gone …when purity ends, then life begins .. r

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