blake kathryn
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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Kiana Khansmith
Show & Tell
The Bright Sessions
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Color Me Curious
Not today Justin
bliss lane
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tannertan36
almost home
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
if i look back, i am lost
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
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@noxyge-moved-blog
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
some people will always feel the lingering taste of death upon their tongue ; breath reeking of rotting bodies & distant memories, decayed lovers, kisses long forgotten - but they will never plug out their little paper wings, no matter how bloodstained & torn they seem to be. & on deathbed, body shaking no longer, they whisper - HEY, YOU - WITCH CHILD. CRY RIVERS FOR ME, FOOLISH WOLF BONED BASTARD CHILD. ( let the cursed die. )
Find me @wruon by the way
HEY GUYS PLS VOTE !!
HEY GUYS PLS VOTE !!
