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And on the 8th day

I took my scissors And thought to myself, That I shall shape The better Me... To cut some old, To remove some past And to let it be... And pieces were flying Like butterflies Straight to the sky, Without fear. But I was wrong And in cutting game I let myself To dissapear...


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Anne Vis 20 Mar 2007

Fantastic work and great text, Maria!

Leah Jaarveth 20 Mar 2007

Maria this is creative....great work :)

Cathy Savels 20 Mar 2007

This would be lovely as an illustration for a children's book.

Emily Reed 20 Mar 2007

Chraming and sweet!