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Her tears fell heavily onto the lotus blossoms floating on the water. |
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Quivering with each teardrop, the blossoms sent out ripples into the |
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murky depths The ripples became violent waves that exploded |
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heavenward and tore out the bottom of the sky. As the storm became |
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heavier, |
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the thunder grew louder, and the more she cried. As bloody black rain |
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spilled from the shattered sky, each teardrop was a haunting memory |
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of every soul she had destroyed in the wake of the wrecking-ball life |
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she had lived hundreds of years ago. |
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The world is a furnace in the flames of which the soul is purified. |