ImpressionA Poem by Deandra DawnThere she stood, showering in the embers of deceit, tinted orange with violent reds. A magnificent display of benevolent transgression. The decaying tidings of good fortune that disappear into the wind of logic. Abstaining from the vulgar impression of the dregs of which her sharpened tongue utters. The damning convenience of a formidable opponent, extinguishing the romantic notion of destructive fabrications of your twisted mind
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Added on August 13, 2014Last Updated on August 13, 2014 AuthorDeandra DawnOrlando, FLAboutMy name is Deandra Dawn and I have been writing for as long as I can remember. I also go by the name, Ravishing Raven, and I am currently reworking my website. What else is there to know when there .. more..Writing
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