 |  | Moon light |
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in the light of the silver ball called the moon and the flecks of white called constellations she picked up her beloved knife and enchanted she watched the light of the black night reflect in it's sharp edge and she pressed it deep into her wrist dragging it slowly sickly enjoying the sharp pain of her own flesh being torn apart and the moon watched her in agony and cried shooting stars for her pain and suffering | ||||||||||||||
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