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Then There Was One by VicEberly level with me by fractalhead 967 Minimalist RGB by bjman little star by FabioKeiner Fractoid Three by Direct2Brain apophysis fractal wallpaper by SvitakovaEva Mandelbulb 3D by nic022 The origin of the rainbow spiral. by Mladavid mentalis lateralibus displacement by lecristal Rev by timemit
Fractoid One by Direct2Brain Dreamcatcher by GLO-HE Escaping by LaPurr Empress headband by sonafoitova Depression Walls by 12GO Hungry by DeTea Mandelbulb 3D by nic022 Scattered Cards - Pong 282 by stebev Picube by heyday93
A Lament for LaikaApollo stalked a river nymph
While Moscow looked with starry glimpse
And all that clemency of man
Showed no remorse after Japan.
Instead the dire marathon
Of bloodless states did dawn upon
A mournful Artemis in tears:
The glory of two thousand years.
Behind the curtains of despair
Treblinka, Dachau and the chair,
Onward stood then the next conquest
A giant leap for either chest.
Away, amidst an icy lane
Where stray and stricken do remain
He leashed the throat of nature's pride;
All of his virtues laid aside.
A warmer, yet lackluster cell,
A diet of insipid gel,
A life beneath the measured glare
Of pressured breath and pressured air.
Until at last his proctor's prize,
His Sputnik-2 ready to rise,
They let her spend her final day
With mankind's finest acts at play.
And Laika looked through steaming eyes
At His sliced land and shredded skies,
Before Armstrong's small step of ours,
She slept amid the weeping stars.
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More