She did speak in TwIstEd and UpSeTtInG syllables sometimes, a RALLYING call: a WHISPERING cry. To all of anybody who might JUST dare to share

Their SILENCED aspect of giveaway gratitude, be rather rude not to, don’t you sIMPLY think it too?

To allow for her meandering moans to catch kite
To sore AND simultaneously SOAR OUTLANDISHLY overhead and away from her own –

Singular sense of unmitigated comfort in running numbers: minutes, namely.

And she appears to only own EVERY. NEXT. ONE. OF. THEM!

As the clock continues to tick-tock awhile… her contrarily contained smile attempts to fondly stayAWHILE

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