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The calendar loses a precious part.


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Posted (edited)

The calendar loses a precious part.

The months left get together to cry.

The grieving ones play a melody, while the eleventh moon rises calmly.

 

The chrysanthemum withers and falls,

to land in the floor next to the bloody scarlet eyes.

But you will still be supreme.

Even after losing half of your limbs.

 

Enjoy the interlude.

Search for new allies.

East is the way to go.

You will find someone waiting for you.

 

 

Edited by Chris
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