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.
I needed someone to tell me that I was sane, that I was special, and that I wasn't all that special.
White Hot Truth: Clarity for Keeping It Real on Your Spiritual Path from One Seeker to Another
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I needed someone to tell me that I was sane, that I was special, and that I wasn't all that special.
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