black birds arrive. Raining blood. The wind screams bitterness and anger. There are thirteen words already, and if I wrote it the first three sentences should resonate even in your brain. Bring it to read. That's right. And turn off your smile, feel the desolation of a landscape where everything is blurred color. Fifty-four words. Do you see that the time is up, the dust covers the beautiful that the sun burns the beautiful?. It is the power and strength of the signs: a fire burning in your skin so terrible and dark, but never know who is behind the hundred.
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