A wight was looking out of the mirror with a black tongue out,
sharping the knifes, spitting on the magnifying glass
when her veins green became lops, braided by the water blue
homeless birds were sitting on her palms
and everything around was made out butterflies
her breath is warmness of her essence
she is divine of presence
stars in her eyes are made of eternal light
and when she cover you by her sight
you redden.
Half way trough to leave her white body
on the altar for the innocent .
Never destroy beauty, it grows on the grass fields
together with lavender, caressed by mild air.
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