was life. I was the life of sudden motivation. I was red all over. I was right. I was the stoning life. I was wind. I was police. I was blue. I was gloom. I was speed death like mad Gods taking place in a Roop of man. I was the light that took away light to become more of it. I was the girl burning for mirrored death and you turned life to be red. I was the greatest to the life whirl. I was red and all gloom. I was the yellow paint on the blue dais. I was the burning red. I was the gloom. I was the satiating muse.
I was red. I was the begging of death. In the mouth of red. I was red. I was yellow. I was the burn and the light goers of night.I was the night dead. I was red. I was truth. I write down inches of frames and dights of night. I was the lord of God. I was teeth. I was sudden rites of necessary myths. I was red. I was life. I was her. I was right. I was right. If given a chance, I proved already, truth.
You are the right of mirror wall. The right of God. I right through you. I was a girl study. I was red. I was infinite. I was tooth. I was life. I was dead deed. I was the nuanced right. I was the poem that asked you to ask in honouring hriety. I was life.
Death of a situation
If a girl asks in the toll of moon. I was the truth and mirror worded man and it’s truth to be you. Me, to you. It’s a reflection of right. The right in everything and the word in truth. I was asking a thesis mechanism to fall through the loped heads of man and ask a girl, why? Why are we the truth steady and fist-ready for a gulp of knowledge? It brightens. It reds, I was the sublime truth. I understand the reckoning work of man and abide by it.I was the red brittle and the night of heaven. I was red. I was the yellow gloom of day. First sign of day. I was the life crackle. I was the poem in my heart. I am.
Life heads as a swan.
The birth of man is a daughter. Is the courage vy of a girl, an inking of man, and an intellect spy if a birth began. I was the red toil and red deed of a girl’s vy. If you seek justice in the vast veracity of man, you find true. I was the life gathering through a darling daughter. I was her. Life inmates. Life vys. Teeth of grit crakes a load hum of gun in loving theory of bloom.
Theory of bloom
The flounder of I. The death of truth. Sententious lies that seem like the vulpine life of craft. Gasconade the vast pretense of man. Erratic leap of God. Death note of insinuate, piety of red and vitiate of blue. I am the opprobrium of grace. Gelid speak of eye. Emetic seek of beauty through the Louvre eye myth. I was red like donning and blue like haunting. If the corollary was the fructose basilica and the untrammelled structure of path. I was life’s hriety.
Hriety
Rostrum of sanc-deep ocean. The lips of truth. What is right? And what is hriety? And ‘ Sunidhi
