There is a form to my flesh, a color to my skin
I am a base
fuse with words
, attach to me
I push down
whispers of identity that come aching, hours into the night 
Wolves and owls,
A life with wolves and owls
I cry beneath the moon I so fondly refer to as sweet luna
luna, night lamp of the sky
Great canister of light
You know your
Who would ever daresay she was never Sweet Luna, she
had no name

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