7

‎Saturday, ‎July ‎12, ‎2014

Briskly the wind filled with her scent
And in awe, the saddest tone melt
I watched them wither in remembrance
The feelings of dead curled up in loneliness
At similar times I’ve capitulated my height
Such terror in such pleasure, why
I must learn to escape such exploits
Or the irony gets me in bending smiles
While the beauty burns in disaster inside.

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