Dark angel in the shadow of solace lovely night, my desire at keen for your smolder, your soulless black candle, the rage of radiance across the split second fortune of murderous dusk, the vehement end to light, sunshine my burden, nothing free, the poorest of ends, the lesser essence of mediocrity. An angel is the dark winged prayer, the catcher of us few in the valkries belly, the soldiers for us, the pouring hearts misery unaccompanied leaves me longing for pasture in the haven of calamity, the rage in me to find a response for the frivolity, the fury to be penchant of the solidarity, the clarity to dig into the well of Mephistopheles, the feline cat aristocrat of yawning sinister dying days, the rolling mountain in the sun above me oh my endless climb, a fist, I insist, the way to ride through the grave land, survey to strategize and ride without petrified money, without her heart, her silken cheeks holding glass shards from my lord our god, the twinkling ends of blind free sanctuary, a flower pot in a rain storm, a flower in a tornado, fleeting lovelies, fleeting beauties, sorry little girls, I am on my knees. You angel, ride for the petulant night, the grey milk of futility in your iced lips, your shadowy nape, the prayer of chasing an upward wind, an engine of fortitude not fatality, the saddle of the lost land, and a delicate cradling hand. The blaze of an inside heart brighter than the muted night, the soldiers on the doorstep to infinite fatality, the eternal eve of mislaid prayers, the slaughter of the generations, the damnation for the evers of eternity, the bloodshed of hatred like fickle that of love, the violence of anger, the meeting point of catastrophe, the devil driving an engine, the thousands on the road dying by a fire. The fire as my engine, my drumbeat, the pound of a skull towards the muddled mentions, I am dying in the horrible end, hoping for the angel of the corpse of time. I beg you sweet angel, to ride.
see pics...Dark Angel
see pics...Dark Angel
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good for you then