Micaela Gloomy


A man of words and not of deeds is like a garden full of weeds. And when the weeds begin to grow, it's like a garden full of snow. And when the snow begins to fall, it's like a bird upon the wall. And when the bird away does fly, it's like an eagle in the sky. And when the sky begins to roar, it's like a lion at the door. And when the door begins to crack, it's like a stick across your back. And when your back begins to smart, it's like a penknife in your heart. And when your heart begins to bleed, you're dead, and dead, and dead indeed.

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