What is the world when the song bird doesn't song
Without the voice that's speaks through the heartstrings
What's to become when she flies so far from reach
Because another's come to clip her sacred wings
And in the midst of subtle curiosities
What will become, oh what will be
If our precious song bird starts to flee
Without the heart and love she breathes
I wonder, what's to come and what's to be
If she succumbs to let another clip her wings
This Is An Easy One
We confiscate all the shears and sissors and metaphorical means of clipping wings and melt them down, put them in molds that form heart shapes and polish them until they gleam like silver. We send them to Duberly so she can weep tears of joy for having friends like us. Got cha back, ya bottom, ya top, both sides, and feather support if needed - Lady A
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Let it be witnessed, that I have been very nice about all this. Calm, calm, calm...and take it slow. (That's me using Duberly techniques to love inspite of all the evil in the world).
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Applause
For your towering restraint. But let us turn the other cheek, no?
"Music is a universal language and needs not be translated. With it, soul speaks to soul" - Songsterr