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63.63% Sculpture of Adrenaline / Chapter 7: Nefelibata

Nefelibata - Sculpture of Adrenaline - Chapter 7 by Rinasekhon full book limited free

Chapter 7: Nefelibata

The eye of blank yet desperate convict Find authorized novels in Webnovel, faster updates, better experience, Please click <a href="https://www.webnovel.com/book/sculpture-of-adrenaline_21073684306357205/nefelibata_56762101590448600">www.webnovel.com/book/sculpture-of-adrenaline_21073684306357205/nefelibata_56762101590448600</a> for visiting.

Touches of cloud was the aid of clone of ashes being poured in the brutal in the seas of creation

How would u describe one affection towards someone who descends within the height of a long convey soul

Gratitude of mischief

The walk of cloud being neon-like seizures of vein

Falling in out hard of all the addiction was one embodiment of the sense of being how much cold of emptiness

One-touch

Losing all my sense till the geek of an heir was the airres of Aries

The old prison walker of all clouds

That hears nothing of the earns of society yet being speechless of powerless animal being grip by chains

Taking it all off

Animal of injustice

Yet prove of control was hard to let go

I had to fight to make it thru all the darkness

I was drowning in my pain

No one was there in my anxiety breakdown

They say the poet doesn't break nor down even if everything is falling apart

But it's not true

I am here breaking every single soul of my min to stick the pieces

Always thought things were different

Things or relationships with parents are healed in the lock of wisdom and gratitude

I am wrong again I guess

I broke again

With all the world haunted again

Tears were sliding down like waves were crashing down

I didn't know how to reach out for help

When I am a case of gone of pain

A knife that was made of a sharp blade

Struck me like a moon of the old galaxy

I have sabotaged everything I knew about myself

I broke into pieces

And maybe u wouldn't realize how much I hate u for it

I was a fault in the eyes of inspiration

Being the good sight of skepticism is not the root of all rot verses

With the audition of my aspiration

Yet I have been craving something major out of all the outlet that conceived the odorless texture

Of one extinguisher

I am all years God but the ever going temptation of boiling graves was a hurtful infection being a craved of a various factor of glory

Inspect of old and jay of thee

Was orderly hath at the ends of powered polish


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