The Staged
O fruit of this diversity, excuse the blood I cry like the Holy Virgin on her worn stone pedestal. I am scared, I am bare; I broke this bracelet and the beads flew. Tragically I am respected among your cast and crew, the costume director with the funny tendencies; I construct my habits At Needlepoint. My main character wears a million flaws. If I serve a purpose we're in trouble. Written April 1st, 2002 © on Apr 01 2002 10:40 AM PST, Katrina Armour 0 • 10
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"O fruit of this diversity,..."