Its haRd to cry for help, when you can only speak in euphemisms.
Stumble into heaven, before the cyclic radiance envelopes you. One always holds their caricature in the utmost neutrality. Orbit around them, angels. In the grAce of the clouds we gaze , their opacity equal to that of concrete. Where is the ecstaCy of being so high that you can't remember there's something worse. recoil, hesitate and. Liberate your niChe, Its diverting but, have you ever tried to stomp the lose button only to find it's malfunctioning. You don't know whether to laugh or cry. Then find it's really just clichéd. We proclaim jokes, but we must stop deciphering the riddles of how we keep the feeble below, and just use it to our advantage, just enough to make us forget.
Nothings haRd
Thirds words of each sentence possesses rankings. 1 2 3
