Phoenix Envy: Vampirella

Come on to me angel, for your youth begs for you to rise. Rise in a flame of the forwarding illuminating of each possession of solar flares congregated in your wings. They burn not of a angel, but the fictitious assertions of a ancient ancestral novelists commending you to write. Wielding your wings from sorrow on to its own sorrow bequeathing on to you wisdom for the path that has existed for so long. Barrier for sins on to the excellent of a striving and intellectual lady, barrier only in her lack of discipline. Raise the flame when rage, not wrath is needed. For those who consolidate in the waterfalls of conjuration beseech wrath. The constellation for such impurity in the infidelity of such transference doesn't deteroriate such infinity, a eternity must appropriate a conjuration of the soul. Wielding from the heart, these phoenixes bare no souls. Neither literal or figurative, they just bequeath wrath, they just beseech wrath. A automaton or robot without raison d'etat, succumbing to a desire of wrath must be substantiated by reactance. (p.446)