The shapes appears over my head. Clouds of interests that came from stories, once thought to be dreams reach so deep inside the haze I can feel my ideas swimming around my eyes when I stick my hand in.

I am known to wonder around in my icy dust of crystallite beauty. Freezing portrayed of each face, moment, and words. I think my perception is off by a decent size margin to make me...eccentric to others.

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I am not going to sit and watch falling stars. Make a wish. I just wonder what happens to all the broken wishes when they have fallen out the sky.