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the paper,sitting there.the blacks of the inkslowly seeps out,dominating the page...pouring out over spilled milklooking back;it is already doneentire..
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I have recently made a blog, But...I can't add anything,Nothing comes to mind-It's sitting there, useless. But nowI think I know why. Poetry are my bl..
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I'm thinking about the world, This strange, strange world, I'm thinking about the golden wings of a butterfly,So delicate to touch, So fragile and pre..
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In this world long forgotten, She turns her back, Hands caressing the black silk, She whispers wordsThat fade quietly into the atmosphereAnd she walks..
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drop.a dew of something, maybe fogged?hidden there under the dusty shadows ♥
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a short free-verse, brevity.
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