Ancient some history, Padmé Amidala

I’d hate your planet side, but worlds you’d take me for granted in never could be heard, bore sung, but I am a bother and I know this business or did you think, that my worlds, and my voices, could be sound never at all and heard as These voices, and that We, are these jedi strong and worlds surrender’d could chasten your, duality, in character, and I was loved, in your life, and in my own lifetimes, but I’d died, in this agony, once upon a summer and that you could know what death is and that my second husband
was only ever my son, and this first, surely, by Honiker or Amidala Honiker, could he be richer for the loved I’d bare him for life in a chauvenist galaxy apparente, that he could dream about me not, often enough to hatcha child for us both, who was destined lover, of mine, but that we could all love our kindred,
our friends, and that incestuous romance is godly, at best, and share whatever you worlds for, could having at,
or why did you think I was wrong about him, even
when my life too, turned to Sythic legacy, of the black. My husband Anakin’s father, and my father with him, together created what you so famously know nothing ov, or parent, that this was a design of my father’s not but that black itself, is his own invent and that you could feel emotion and know it was, true black
but that it has aspect, and not personality that was not, hers, or shared theirs, and limit once in mine?
These calls, or our challenge, to livings, could be hated by your worlds or that you could know nothing of these in my own lives, and hearing your world could hurt me, and once I could really die, but the dead of
what was living are among you still, and agony incarnated is what these, sicko monster are and never once could you think I’d wanted to never exist again but for that I am young, and I needed the outcry, of pain in hells?
 I died, that day I lost my son, to capture of mission, and screaming agonies against us, for theirs his captors’ belief in him as some, broken man, mutilated into machine, forms. What are you, and who sent you why, do you even care?
That his scream was broken? He was, echoed, or that this was, hollow, anyway, or that We could, be grant, and shared apathies could love your romances and mine agaiyn, in these shared worlds, or having uv, in this loss for power, but that I was gone in ecstasy could I know what you have of me, still, yet or ever agaiyn, that shared shallow remarks, could be life, and that I was this wife to Darth Vader, and mother to him also but that he’d shelter his name in mine, Honiker, would, know that he is my husband and Anakin our son.
Did I stutter for you?
I have nothing to give you but you’re still searching for an endgame I’d give you that you could hate me for, or worlds in My own levels of judgement, that you mind me not when We, and Our, is that we of this, and caring, but that His, I could be allowed to say not of my lovers, and so we are in hell, and this was proven, and duh. Sabé could love you for moments,
or share what is, and worlds ordered, could be, but that we have no faith in the catchiness, and take all lifestile you breathe of, better off in monogamy, cuz fucking what, duh, of course I love her body she’s my daughter, after all, but don’t worry, we’re just friends; girls don’t even know what fucking is when boys aren’t involved it’s kind of something they lose reference for if you tried it without them, you know?
Or here that you could know of Androumeda
called Sabé and that she was this second queen, or first, and that we’d conquered Naboo not, but are, Naboo, itself, so we’d left Alderaan by these fortunes, and Naboo thrives still, in Leia, and me. Have you never lost someone before? No, wicked said and never hed, before, but that you think that you cannot, find them again when loss, was the word, are you in hell already and so we strike against the heart of the Sythic empire, and your home world, in it.
Even stories about the jedi say there are lightsabers why won’t you
believe I like them too? Nothing to say, do you?
Have at nothing was warrant, bad it, but like was bad at at it, ife again, ife again, ife a second time but the same line wasn’t to this section out over to the first, so who are you, and who sent you here, and why, do your worlds, have any,
to do with mine, save that monsters know about babies, too, so run, you fools, and bling back your heritage, or that sounds could travel never, in time, but that prophecy does and the new words you’ve invented in now,
are heard not on the airs back in calender year solo?
Have an army waiting for you and I’d still wicked send, but that this liking, our ours, that this was glad ov it, was that I could be, Jedi, and know, Force, but that your worlds could think I had to hide this not, in this ever presence shadow, to a child from the desert, so surely was life, and hope, but then that this was witness, in where we could hide, and strafe, and walk, and kill, but that you could know nothing if you thought it evil, this dark side, of the Force.
They were ugly we see
so we tricked them, and now monsters all wear black clothes, and it looks stupid, but duh, we are stupid, I so hate lifetime patterns and resonant aliasings?
Beauty is power so you’d glow, if you were a jedi among the monster, so that you could wear black to hid you would be spotted, but that they now hide their power they were desperate to show you with the mere torture of beholding it, or sare shared, back agaiyn, but that we could together, engineer the destruction of the War Clones, and theirs this cause, so that this could be hated on your level, and that the war they meant to end with it,
was over long before they completed, the death star, to use it like heroes, the could ever be, and more once, could this be an extinct star killer, for designs unique, were stolen by a hacker, and give, to Sabé, like it was a good idea to tell Luke, alright?