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Through the pipeline, my intuition sang with a brightness as shyly iridescent as the moon herself. My fear hadn't vanished, although the cries of silence were no longer heard. A quest for contentment sparked its trail through my alabaster bones as the darkness of those years turned to dust. As I gathered together my shattered shards, they no longer pricked my pure flesh, staining the angel-white linen of my life. Although the glass still sometimes pricks, my shaking fingertips finally hold a mosaic masterpiece that glistens in the light of the fire spewing from my emerald eyes.
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