Thorny vines grab my chest

The purity decorated onto the cracked glass case is from the hearts of the dying angels. Every time when I awake again, it would be another 100 years passed. I am a sleeping beauty, surrounded by briar, with a sleepless soul. The eroded crown is in a drop of blood. Ah, I think this present reality is the truth.

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dark green maiden rozen suiseiseki

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