The Blacks she grew into Van Gogh's.
The Venom she ingested for the journey.
The Deceit she studied its form to learn.
The Filth infused her to clean.
The Ash, she bore, back into Life.
The Lies, she casted as sight.
The wings they tore, she bore two more
But they were nothing compared to her eyes.
The Alchemy of Love,
The Alchemy of Sight.
They ever underestimate
Forgiveness in its time.
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