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support good times :iconaerode:Aerode 3 2
Literature
moonwalker
at eight, i remember imperfections
bordering my skin.
i remember sculpting them at nine.
ten tossings, turnings, talking now,
talking about swimming pools
and bloody noses, red on blue,
on waves of blue. i’d always liked purple anyway.
but eleven.
eleven is fear. eleven is new people and you blossoming while i shrivel, eleven is choking on spit, eleven is creased by a distinct lack of you.
i remember teeth grinding on teeth and lips and oh, god, the doctor says not to do that anymore but i do it anyway. you said it was fine and i wanted to listen.
twelve is tracing the borders first bluntly, then sharp, as if the words would never be enough.
i could be ugly just for fun, i could.
and i remember how you would look at me as if i were something disgusting, something stale: something to be forgotten.
and yet twelve is falling for you. twelve is the boys and girls we liked and poor vision and me, standing on the edge, trying to hold the universe together with these fragile hands
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 20 7
Literature
past perfect / the unfixing
I.
i liked you better when you had told me you could,
 could, and i knew i couldn’t. i liked you better when
  you had told me that i was okay even when i was
   the only one who managed to drown on an empty stomach.
    i liked you when you had said that we could be reckless
     (just for fun) like it’d be fine if i fell apart.
      it was, really. these days, those people—
       yes, it must be alright if i fall apart.
        but you are no mechanic, are you?
 
         i liked you better when we’d learned to bruise sidewalks,
          as if the constellations in our skin weren’t enough.
           i would find myself lost i
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 17 5
Literature
for you
if you think that you're unhappy
and the world just makes you sick,
(while these words are solemn-sappy)
remember this one trick.
there will come days of rain and rain
and great, great glowers galore.
and crews of crying paper cranes
may wash up at your door.
when you think your will's going, gone
i can assure you it's not:
you're the one who continues on
when pain's what pain's begot.
you'll find sunshine in the fault lines
and shimmers in showers past
while friends with which you laugh and dine
will be the ones who last.
so finally, here's that one trick
to warm someone cold on earth:
relax, unwind, and now, quick, quick!
just smile, for what it's worth.
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 10 5
Literature
the elephant moon
forgive me, but
i.
wash your hands once    once
    twice
            once more
    glory like the taste of money
                when i bite down
and lips are paper    parties.
            up
    tap water
            up
        in my lungs
    we are
                    dragged,
hung up on the elephant moon
        and
    gold's wreathed in los angeles noon.
    ii.
    but the boys and girls,
        they    grow    up
                  grow
        too.
 
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 21 18
Literature
hydrophelia
"this be the verse,"
you spoke,
with the conviction of a felon
and the heart of a child adrift.
indeed,
it is the verse
of guilt-stricken fingertips
and faulty cuts.
you are the colossus,
heaving in your anarchy,
swallowing god like air
in your wake.
and in this requiem,
a friend lost in crossing.
they say surgeons need
nothing but to be taut;
if so, you are rigid
strung through white by gauze.
wreathed
by ophelia's mercies
you draw close to the river
to crumple.
it is easier for you to float
to breathe
to gaze
when these lines are cut closer
to the horizon.
but before this dialogue bears
barren bonds,
stop.
stop.
take a step back and observe.
find the world wrecked in your home
and tell cleopatra,
"no more."
for these riddles
are intricate in the night,
and negative feedback
by day storm.
from your cicatrices elms
unravel and speak.
but elsewhere in the woods,
in these summer stones
you are scorched
and croak,
"here lay the verse."
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 14 3
Literature
cold fusion
there is no cruel mistress
    divinity serves
        but a recalibration of clocks
            and us, in the wind.
            you said,
            there are orphans in the hills
            so i say,
            come in, come in.
            in the olympic plumage
        this collusion is fuchsia.
    it is said to be this and that;
a rosetta stream into
            constellations without translation.
        there is no starlight to decipher
    poking through gravity furnaces,
arrhythmic, arrhythmic.
            to be a martyr --
     
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 24 8
Literature
dead man's dance
never tell me that the dead look peaceful
until you look them in the eye.
in most worlds, there are sober
absolutes, unapproachable,
in fear of facing retribution.
in most worlds, there is a void,
a skip,
a glitch on the horizon.
the dead man's dance
draws it all in,
swallows the universe,
and short circuits.
there is deep gravity plastered
in the finite over the infinite.
in skin towns he is a terrace
flicker and urban beat.
he tries the trireme tarantella
over the sin cliffs.
he is tried for the great divide
and carves life into the mitotic skies.
like saturn's branches, freeze
and balloon, for jupiter grants
you no mercy.
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 13 3
Literature
absolute zero
never reached.
look how the gravity armada
divides in stasis
or careful abandon.
look how sharply
shiva ends in simplicity,
and take a right
for cold.
one in the flux,
salvage the slivers of deities
from gut piping
in charybdis major.
take buildings' gait
and square; swallow
solar skin softly
and apply liberal frost.
slumberstep or
slumberstumble before
the freeze is perfect,
lest you see constellations
in myopia minor.
erratic static too plays
in minor key in endchill.
boy of brahma,
quake the world
to make ribs meet:
find yourself in the ataraxy
of disjoint and supreme
absolutes.
oh it is bitter
and the arid palms of eden
are slow to divide.
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 26 11
Literature
heaven for the brokenhearted
nature knows the altar boy
like we know prefix and preface
and title our lives in caps.
there will be roads
that lead into worlds on fire
and disjoint; swaying
in deep water with pleated hair
like roads imprinted in allegory
before drowning.
and what follows is
life
life
life
life again
sleep.
there will be hearts
that are meant to be wasted.
the altar boy knows the nature of us,
for no one smiles
in the face of love.
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 16 7
Literature
but it rained
she is a brave little girl.
she picked at her nails
even if they told her not to,
reasoning that sometimes,
it felt better biting down.
she walks home alone,
fluttering, tremulous,
footsteps unsure on ground
that felt too much like paper.
onward,
she spoke, quivering,
but when she arrived, she'd visit
the waning fountain and lay
roses, always.
daydreams, always, too
when the sun migrates
and she is cruciform against
burning garden:
who is there but the clouds?
she grows like bone stripped bare
and sways like hot air
from embers adrift.
she grows like bone stripped bare,
a cartilage bouquet
wrought under pressure
and playground performances.
she'd meant to be a kid again yesterday,
but it rained
and rained.
from her vantage point,
there are no guarantees, only
one step forward
and one step back.
she has been stricken before,
sickened by the city's grease
and petroleum smog.
with the sky, she pulls off the nails
(bite down first)
to the hearth in the cellar.
and in the cellar s
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 17 15
Literature
lady propane
"this world is dark,"
she cries,
but she is deathly excited to ignite.
she walks,
barefoot,
on hardwood floors.
she only feels herself
in her bones
but not her skin,
laying low like cold air.
do not deal in
misgivings, little one,
because you know
the world's too stubborn
to stop for you.
and so she spews,
fire incarnate.
her arms are torches
and concrete skies
are ablaze.
under the sun, she glowed.
under the stars, she glowed
more.
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 18 2
Literature
angel arms
the world does not care
when the metal in the sky
is warmer than you.
electric streams roar
with closed eyes, and i realize
that god does not weep.
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 8 5
Literature
blitzhaven
it is static pulse in sober night.
your coffee's still hot, as if time forgot
a few things
at the end of the world
and espresso happened to be one of them.
i am electric on the radio.
these messages go amiss
and quite frankly i don't care;
short step warnings
only scare off the fools.
now,
look me in the eyes when i talk to you.
you've got something to prove
in the white noise rise,
but i'm afraid they'll eat you alive.
i walk with you through chewed up streets,
stoic.
ready to tear me down at the shot of a gun,
you suddenly falter --
your coffee begins to frost over
and i exhale;
guess who's nuclear now?
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 13 7
Literature
chill
friday night vibes are
a dialogue
between streetlamp
and sidewalk.
i am the strobe and
i spin again,
bullet-mouthed,
and so you tell me
to bite down --
shake gravity
from my hair
and tell me of
midnights dreary,
weak and weary:
and darling you are
rattling in the flux.
now you inject
ammunition like heroin and
if that doesn't kill you
then i will and there
you fall and bleed again,
a drink's consolation,
conversation lulling
because you are tired.
and if these memories
are "wasting and chill" to you
then i am a greater fool
than you are, squared.
i do not like to touch
those who do not care
enough to realize my fingers
are cold, and have always been.
darling, this world's a church,
but i am no savior.
i would like to speak again
but this music is too loud,
and i have not screamed in ages
so i tell you,
"save the last bullet for me."
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 19 9
Literature
shiva
i.
my mother would tell me,
"child, put on your shoes,
and close the door behind you,"
as if her biggest fear
was being left alone in dark spaces
in her socks.
checking the door
once, twice, and once more
(just in case)
became child's play,
even if i were inept at being young.
but i cannot check
in the way a pawn does a king,
because i am terrified
of trapping myself in an endgame
i cannot win.
"child,"
my mother calls me still,
even though i'm far from one,
far from the days of bruising sidewalks --
because now,
i tread ever so carefully.
ii.
we stuck our bare thumbs into my dad's beer
at seven and giggled at the sensation,
our fingers skinny dipping in something
forbidden at the time. i felt
lightheaded and giddy and confused
all at once, and
sucking my thumb was new to me.
i can almost hear the beer sing,
sweet in thought,
but bitter toxin in reality.
and when the storms come for me,
i'd like to say that i am strong enough,
that i am the tempests themselves.
but i
:iconAerode:Aerode
:iconaerode:Aerode 13 8
I hope you enjoy what you see. :love:

Favourites

KAMEN SMILE :D :iconmakaihana975:makaihana975 1 9
Literature
The Moving World
I am living in the future whilst standing in the present,
Breathing borrowed air from a foreign world.
I am living three rented years on my tenant of fifteen
And I want to take out the mortgage,
No, I want to buy the house.
Each hour is extra time over the free trial,
Without being charged the fee.
Instead I watch time distort my life,
Walls are painted white
And old sofas are thrown in skips.
Worn ornaments are broken and replaced,
Discarded buildings are torn down
And empty shops burnt to the ground,
Leaving room for bigger and better homes.
I laugh at new movies and stories,
Dancing and singing to the latest and oldest songs alike.
I stare at progression,
Whilst more dog-eared books pile around me,
Mountains of lettered tales
That adds a thousand lives to my own.
Each day is unplanned,
Since another sunrise was never part of my life.
So it makes every breath a surprise,
Each fresh jokes a blissful melody,
Including my friend's overused, tattered ones,
Those become favourite anthems
:iconFiona-Demitto:Fiona-Demitto
:iconfiona-demitto:Fiona-Demitto 1 0
Journal
If I could DD....Literature
 More details about the project here: 

        once more with feeling by LeahShae
 
What would you DD if you could? 
:iconJustACapharnaum:JustACapharnaum
:iconjustacapharnaum:JustACapharnaum 13 24
Journal
Las Vegas deviantMEET Wrap-Up!
     
Our first-ever deviantMEET in Las Vegas hit the jackpot!
On Sunday, December 1st, deviants were already lined up outside the doors at 5:00 PM, even though the event wasn't scheduled to start until 5:30!  (A handful of amazingly dedicated super deviants arrived as early as 3:30 PM!)  Far be it for us to wait to get the party started, so we opened the doors a little early, allowing the crowd to rush in.  After signing our guestbook – we know, physical guestbooks are so Web 1.0, but they're great mementos! – our devious artists dispersed to play at the deviantART booth. 
Stocked with six Intuos 5 Wacom tablets to play with, a 24-inch Cintiq, SketchBook Pro for sketching and painting, enough table seating for traditional drawing and portfolio review, and bags upon bags of free swag (including stress balls, deviantART Sharpies, and tons of free stickers), everyone found an awesome and creative way to spend their time.
:iconHeidi:Heidi
:iconheidi:Heidi 130 212
Literature
stick to boys in books
one through eight were toys,
but they played me
before i could get the drop on them
nine was a rigid type,
lost in his own nebula,
careening before i could 
save him from himself
ten did not know how to
share anything and he
silenced his own idolatry
without assistance
eleven was tantalizing paper
and ink radiance, but he
boiled over before completion
and left me gelid and lost
twelve was a fairytale,
consistent sunsets and snuggles,
kisses keeping sanity intact...
the printing press model for boys
they just don't make them like they used to
:iconithaswhatitisnt:ithaswhatitisnt
:iconithaswhatitisnt:ithaswhatitisnt 18 16
Journal
May Feature
Hello everyone~ Here's the feature for May!
Before you take your time to enjoy these wonderful pieces, there are a few things I'd like to bring to the attention of the poets of this group! Firstly, if you haven't seen it yet, do check out JustACapharnaum's lovely interview with one of the current Literature CVs, brennenxr - All things Poetry with Brennenxr? Ok! Secondly, there is a "war" going down and Poets, the world needs you. (Or join the dark side with prose! :evillaugh:)
Back to the feature... Enjoy! :aww:
--
Seeking an Extension by KaitForest'Hello human' by MateuszPisarski
:iconMacroPoetry:MacroPoetry
:iconmacropoetry:MacroPoetry 6 23
Journal
Favs of note 32










Big Blue Cat by its-nemoris
Giselle by raysheaf
Show one another some love :heart:
:iconSheDares:SheDares
:iconshedares:SheDares 5 24
Literature
The Town that Angered Sky. (anthology)
I. a church with no God.
a dark outline of an
ancient steeple reaching skyward
against the night sky,
an outstretched needle
wishing to prick
the clouds and unleash the floods
within. yet, it does
not rain.
it is silent, both outside
and in with lines of uniformed
pews that once held
crowds of residents dressed
in tight-fitting, stiff-to-the-touch
Sunday best. now they
are empty, even the preacher-man
has abandoned the comfort
he once found here.
the walls themselves seem to hold
an atmosphere of wildness to
them, almost as though whatever
dead God once resided here is
angry. almost as though He is
the one who cursed this
untameable place, this jungle
and in doing so,
doomed all the beasts within it.
II. lion-king.
he has inherited this
broken kingdom,
this wretched land
that comes with a
crown of thorns -
the beasts have pledged
themselves to
follow him. each a
desperate face that
knows they are bound
to this ill-fated
patch of earth that
didn't know it wasn't
supposed t
:iconXSwan-SongX:XSwan-SongX
:iconxswan-songx:XSwan-SongX 16 0
Literature
hunters of artemisia//anthology
the city.
The city is a ruin.
girls parade, boys want to be saved
devastation and self-destruction
is the current religion.
On the outskirts, beyond
barbed wire fences
are the Hunters of Artemisia.
their hearts are herb gardens
but their smiles are like thornbush roses
beautiful and sharp, sharp, SHARP
no adults dare set foot
      in the city
      in the outskirts
no adults
          dare.
it's a city of teenagers,
 rebellion,
    escape,
         breakdowns
and love that rarely ever lasts.
it's the city of adolescence.

replicas
mirrors
  carbon copies
laser printers
  copycats.
      reflections.
clones.
the city is as untamed
 as the wilderness around it
we are the Hunters,
  and this we know.
the city dreams escape
 wants to break out of itself
   wants
       
   
:icona-girl-named-divine:a-girl-named-divine
:icona-girl-named-divine:a-girl-named-divine 10 22
Literature
Luminary Anthology - the text version
Shot
Today
I drank
sunlight
until the
ice cage
of my heart
retreated.
Tonight
I will
drink starlight,
smoke nebulas,
and eat
the white feathers
left behind
after all
my dreams.
Spin
Peer
into my eyes
see
the galaxies,
worlds
you'd never leave,
eternal
twilit horizons,
bleeding
the sky dry.
I
have been
dying
to have you
look at me
one last time
like you did
before the
spiderweb glass
in my mind
finally
shattered.
Galaxy Fire
The rings
on her fingers,
the hem
of her skirt
the brim
of her hat -
she is
all Saturn's
shining vinyl -
devouring
an icy dance,
whirling
in the space
between atoms,
planting
cavernous infinities.
She, my
galaxy,
smells
of sunrise
and spills over
with dust and stars
and cold and light
and lessons.
Running On Empty
I need
to explode
like a
firecracker star,
be glittering
confetti
all star stuff
and prisms,
but my
electric
jelly bones
will not
ignite.
They are
damp
and heavy
and full of
clumped soil.
Luminary
Tonight
I will count
the
:iconinkedacrylic:inkedacrylic
:iconinkedacrylic:inkedacrylic 2 0
Journal
Why I Love Poetry (April Feature Part 1)
When I was approached by JustACapharnaum to put together this journal for MacroPoetry, she made it clear she wanted me to ask a question, not just to the deviants I would select to help me with this journal but to myself as well.
She wanted to know, “Why do you love poetry?”
I’m sure most of you will understand this feeling - when you’ve been doing something for so long, something you know you love... you don’t really think of the reasons why you love it, you just do. So, I didn’t actually have an answer to the question. :lmao: I didn’t know why. Or perhaps, I’d merely forgotten. So, it surprised me that I was able to relate so easily with the reasons the other poets gave when I asked them the same question. I don’t believe myself to be much of a poet but if being able to relate to all these reasons for writing poetry makes me one, then this is a feeling, a love, that needs to be shared with you: the used-to-be poet; the wo
:iconclassic-poet:classic-poet
:iconclassic-poet:classic-poet 15 33
Journal
MagicalJoey's Anthology Contest
Why hello there you lovely person. Yes, you! No, not the madly waving person behind you...just you. You have arrived at a very nice place. While we have no unicorns, candy or coffee, we do have a contest! That's right, you've arrived at:


(Idea stolen, kinda, from here: Aero's Anthology Contest! (Deadline April 30!) )
While the idea isn't an original one, I decided that I wanted to host a poetry contest that promotes the writing of poetry. And what better way to do so than by holding an Anthology Contest - I am an aspiring poet who aims to publish an anthology one day, and I am sure that there are many more like me - where you have to write poetry that is specific, packs an impact and is anthology 'worthy'. Thankfully I am not like Mary Poppins in the gif below - for then you wouldn't know what to do would y
:iconMagicalJoey:MagicalJoey
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 41 140
Literature
Hide And Seek Ch. 1 {A Purple Guy Fanfic}
He was known for being friendly and empathetic with the children in the restaurant. When they interrupted him from his job as guard, tugging at his uniform and asking him questions, he always knelt down to answer them. He listened patiently to their rambling stories, entertained them by making their plushes "talk," and comforted lost children by singing to them as he carried them to their parents. His tall stature and sharp features only intimidated children until they worked up the nerve to approach him, whereupon he would smile kindly at them and ask them their name and which animatronic they liked best- and just like that their apprehension was replaced with enthusiasm upon finding a rare adult who was seemed genuinely interested in what they had to say. He was popular with parents as well, who felt comfortable when their children ran up to greet the guard dressed in purple.
That was, of course, during the day. But now it was nighttime. And though they struggled incessantly against
:iconPlushyPony:PlushyPony
:iconplushypony:PlushyPony 9 5
Literature
The Town That Angered Sky (16 Poem Anthology)
Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Dong
28-2-16
The Town that Angered Sky
Is a place time’s forgotten it could ever reach.
The clock atop the tower stands at six and rests at twelve;
An old man made mad by constant questions;
A master tricksman hypnotising all
With his pendulum’s rhythmic dance.
The bats beat the bells in the belfry
With wings wound round cogs and gears,
But time sits in the corner refusing to come out and play;
“This old man, he has none, can’t keep time with bells or drums.”
Time forgets its purpose in the Town that Angered Sky,
As residents meander melancholy through crosshatched streets;
From drink to drink, from drink to dust,
From dust to grave;
Where Mr Time sits atop the steeple tricking you into believing
That you have another moment here to endure.
The bats beat with wooden wings upon the head of their master Time:
“This old man, he once had cause, can’t keep up ‘cos now he’s lost.”
The Town that An
:iconMagicalJoey:MagicalJoey
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 3 0
Literature
[63]
-she will stand
 she will stand
 until it begins, again(st)
 the rising tide, waves
 breaking through her cosmic
 lungs, the shelter within
 her arms, shackles, shaking
 breaking, shattering into
 milky-way bones
[memories of
 stars, shimmer
 in the back of her
 eyes, rods of
 light, dimmed,
 adjusted to her
 den, encompassing,
 dark]
 a silent, choking
 gasp. lean(ed) over.
 breath short, planets
 falling
 out of her grasp
[the expansion, implosion
 within her bones, colouring
 her trail-end, glass body]
 she is
 static, movement
 blinking out
 of existence;
 hesitating
 fury
 within ice-
:iconEntitaria:Entitaria
:iconentitaria:Entitaria 5 2

Critiques


Hey there, I'm here with the critique you requested! I really, really like this. I mean it. You cleverly combine crafty wordplay, evoca...


Hello! :wave: I'm here with your critique, as requested. This has strong, resounding impact, and you used powerful evocative imagery. I ende...


Hey there! :wave: I'm here with the critique you requested. Everything I say should be taken with a grain of salt. The Good I like this. You...


Hey there! :wave: I'm here with the critique you requested. Everything I say here should be taken with a grain of salt. The Good There's a l...

Journal History

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Riiiiiight here!

I'm excited to announce that the longtime horror experimental poetry project of mine, BLACK WIDOW, has been published as an eBook! It's out on Amazon for pre-orders now; the book will officially be released February 1. If you'd like to help support a struggling college student, I've included the link above; it's selling for $4.99 currently. Thank you for your continued support. :heart:

If you haven't read the series, find a preview here:

Black Widow IIaway
i'm going to break away
drain
      i'm
     in
    the
    drain
     of
      drains
       and
        slowly
         being
          spun
           downwards
          and
         downwards
        and
       downwards
      and
       down
          wards.
thirteen
Mom's rose garden grew beneath the steps, and I did too. They weren't aligned and it bothered me. I always tried to fight it but she would come down and lay her hand on my bare skin and whisper, "They aren't growing."
And I would be red like the roses and blue like the violets.
She grew beneath the steps too.
past
notlookingforthepastorthe f u t u r e   e       e       e          e              e
set
set down the lighter
put it down.
don't make it brighter.
I set the roses on fire.
ingenuity
she never knew I     them on fire.
              I set them on fire.
her hands on my bare skin and whisper,
they          aren't           growing
rose

Hey everyone! I'd like to introduce a project a friend and myself are working on: an action-adventure/fantasy comic series titled BASE!!!

BASE!!! is an upcoming comic series regarding a group of Powered individuals and their lives in their world. Said individuals reside in the BASE and fight to stop the Powered that use their abilities for evil.

Influenced by pop art, Japanese manga/anime, and modern cartoons such as Steven Universe and Teen Titans, BASE!!! is written and illustrated by college kids and hopes to be both progressive and action-packed while still paying homage to the comic genre.

Coming in early 2017.

Link to FB page: BASE!!!: The Series

Thank you! :love:

deviantID

Aerode

Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
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"Procrastinators of the world unite under one banner.....tomorrow." - hypermagical

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Thank you for the 40K! :love: Love you guys.

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:icona-girl-named-divine:
a-girl-named-divine Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
i kinda temporarily forgot how good your poetry is? i mean... it's like 5000000000x times better than what i remember it to be and i'm so excited to read everything again and maybe attempt to leave coherent comments :heart:
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ElektraStarstorm Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2017  Student General Artist
H (Alphabets) A (Alphabets) P (Alphabets) P (Alphabets) Y (Alphabets)
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A (Alphabets) E (Alphabets) R (Alphabets) O Alphabets (Words) 
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Stygma Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
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LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday, sweetness. :heart:
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:iconithaswhatitisnt:
ithaswhatitisnt Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday! :tighthug: :heart: :iconrainbowcakeplz: I hope you're having a wonderful day!!! :squee: :happybounce:
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