When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
Peace does not walk up to our doorsteps and press the calling bell! We have to go out there and search for it.
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Peace does not walk up to our doorsteps and press the calling bell! We have to go out there and search for it.
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