Ah the euphonious din of you!

Muscles unentwined and unspooled and untied and untangled and un-un-unheard!

Do not surround yourself with morons

Do not feel you need forty friends, a retinue, an entourage, a symphony of yesses and noses upon noses, I’d rather forego that for you, if I could

I rather the walks alone

Under the moon alone

We die alone

After all

But there is something so earnest in her!

Something so hardworking about her, so unegoed about her

Something so handsome and masculine about her

Something that subverts beauty in her

And it is left that a maternal shaped silhouette bristles there and you see that that is where the real power is, there

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