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Mother, queen, ancient one. She who gave birth to the son. Draped with the sky and a crown of stars upon your head. Your love and light chase away pain and dread. You lay beside me on my bed.
Feathers weighed down by the grey colors Of melted snow in a New York gutter; Beak stained black with an unknown curse- To die, or live looking like this, which was worse?   Wonky-looking, ostracized,
Kidnapped by the Beast All good; pull out my iPhone Drop my location
O that I, a wise, wise man, Could provide great Abraxas with gnosis, To acheive his plan,
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