Fate would roar; and she would inhale its glory.

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Fate would roar; and she would inhale its glory.

The mental conveluted messages that translate from brain matter to textual forms. Evolutions, arguments, emotions interwoven in a blanket of uncertain conclusions.

Observe and ponder the sanity of it all. Like a fresh breeze, capture the freshness on your tongue. Feel it pulsate in your nerves, find your soul; enrage your thoughts.

My name is Caitlin Bradley and this is my thought process.

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  • Posted on September 19, 2010

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