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I walk amongst the thorns that I wear upon my brow.
I clothe myself in the spun-silk of white blossoms budding out on spiked branches and smile with purple juice from berries ripe-burst upon my lips.
I dream the shadows.
I walk in candle light down mirrored corridors, where I catch hidden glimpses of my soul — waiting — in the bridal chamber between heaven and hell.

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