As I sit the world turns like a merry-go-round were clowns come to drown and elephants come to bathe. Rail road tracks cross paths with dead grass creating a diversity of ways in which anarchy and unity sways. These are the sentences of novel that flows into a stream of choas which gives light to the birth of knowledge and death to the foundations of kingdoms. Thrones are cast high and jesters turned low, even the emptiness of darkness won’t take them below. These words I speak to you hold know riddles or questions, about me you ask is what I intend to tell. Stories of magic and gatherings of mystic, force words of might and stones of realistic. Before your eyes I am king and in your minds I am nothing but none the less you still let me enter for even if we don’t speak breath to breath you still remember my words through life and death…
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