KeybladePenguin

a puppet lying in the wind. -- a puppet lying in the wind across the dusty lane so restrained and acquitted, yet nothing but tame must he see the future that stands before him, right before his eyes? or will he  look back at that image, that image of nothing but lies the puppet master sees him and picks up the rods of his strings dotting the legs about and the boy feeling nothing, nary a thing the soft feeling of his legs crashing upon the wooden boards tripping under one another under his own respiteful lord will he ever get the feeling that he had tried to bestow to him of loyalty and consideration, and playing under hi

eudaimonia. -- the gentle state of eudaimonia was the embodiment of her spirit so unpurposed and free, charismatic and all-around quick-witted the tapping on his soul in soft beats with her fingers made him fall into another daze, one which he would linger for this boy was taken by an angel so careful and free one that would send him down to unbridled loyalty and this boy knew, a dark secret untold one which you would hear passed down from ages of old a spark so deep and sacred, one which was rarely unknown to the eyes of the beholder, he knew his fate was sewn wielding his blade through the hills at almost every turn this warrio