Art thy blessed spirit harmed by mi foulness?
Art thy soul hurt beyond repair?
The sun arising in the east cannot foretell,
how many ghouls the night passed through thy heart.
Neither can the palace guards protect thee,
nor be thine forever to bare a part.
Hath thou a soul?
Hath thou a heart?
Regardless of answer thou are mine sweet art.
Love you
/Sebastian
Funderade på att quota oscar wilde men det blir väll för mycket för denna post! :P
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"A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal."
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