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It is a night of sorrow, a song of darkness,
wolves vent their loneliness. The beautiful one
awakens.

Mist shrouds her walking form,
in everlasting agony.

Her ebony hair cascades over
pale and tragic shoulders, and her
full scarlet lips part slightly, to taste the
red tears streaming from the
pale flesh beneath her.

Now a night of shared vitality.

By: Me