Simply put, it has been plaguing me. That same old vision of the bloody mare, washing herself clean in a pure river. The ebbing motions of that old creek have always accepted her, even now in her darkest moment. It continues to flow, even while she stains and pollutes the once glorious river. Many years ago, it was a large river, far too wild for anyone to traverse. No longer will it swallow the wildlife brave enough, and dim enough, to challenge its magnificent waters. No, these days, it cant even fight off that boney, jittery mare who so often pollutes the waters. The days are much darker now, time is much darker. The mares feigningly ignorant sterilization is often, but she is always caked with the dry blood. Soon, all that will flow in that old river is blood, and then we will knowthe end of days has come.
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