if you justify a difference then there is a term of a black lie, which has a tooth or a bone that crosses its sudden wake like a river that rushes through your blood stream, The internal dirt that figures your actions to confined your wishes of hate or a witch that rides her broom stick that churns her pot of soup that boils at 12 noon that counts her kitchen killer instincts, this is a differences between what you can relate to within the given facts of life.
Nothing but a white lie they say, but does that relate to the truth when we all see a path or route to a change what can aim difference from a person who thinks of them self, to what's is best for them and nothing for no one else, what's ugly and what beautiful, what's the term of love if it don't relate to your inner self, why lie to your self if you don't see a path of your own.
The lost person is the white lie, no hope to spear or no given purpose to there meaning of what's real or fake, hold your stakes, its brakes at eight and signs at nine but everything is calculated within time, as time is a measure, as it can bring pleasure or disgusts to the one who lurks in the mist like a swamp snake with fat finger nails.
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