
Here we go! Kicking it off with the first Ceramic Zeta!
Remember;; You have a better chance of getting the Zeta with a pretty looking form!
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| Based on | Click to view |
| Artist | darkinjinx [gallery] |
| Time spent | 39 seconds |
| Drawing sessions | 1 |
| 5 people like this | Log in to vote for this drawing |

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Extras;;Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I feel wet snow on my
cold, dry skin as
the darkness starts
to settle in.The
stars shine bright
to lead my way.
Through tall, snow
covered trees which
bend and sway in
the breeze.My heart
tells me in hours this
day will be past,
when the nighttime
comes to me slowly
at last. I am back in
the snow so pristine
and clean, but
sadness shows me it
was only
a dream.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I feel wet snow on my
cold, dry skin as
the darkness starts
to settle in.The
stars shine bright
to lead my way.
Through tall, snow
covered trees which
bend and sway in
the breeze.My heart
tells me in hours this
day will be past,
when the nighttime
comes to me slowly
at last. I am back in
the snow so pristine
and clean, but
sadness shows me it
was only
a dream.


Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I feel wet snow on my
cold, dry skin as
the darkness starts
to settle in.The
stars shine bright
to lead my way.
Through tall, snow
covered trees which
bend and sway in
the breeze.My heart
tells me in hours this
day will be past,
when the nighttime
comes to me slowly
at last. I am back in
the snow so pristine
and clean, but
sadness shows me it
was only
a dream.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I feel wet snow on my
cold, dry skin as
the darkness starts
to settle in.The
stars shine bright
to lead my way.
Through tall, snow
covered trees which
bend and sway in
the breeze.My heart
tells me in hours this
day will be past,
when the nighttime
comes to me slowly
at last. I am back in
the snow so pristine
and clean, but
sadness shows me it
was only
a dream.



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