Alien
tears,
To
eyes that were yet to unravel
The
mystery of pain.
A
constriction of the heart and
And throat,
to a form that knows no self defense.
Behold,
black clouds
Traversing
my spirits sky.
Like
a bloomed rose,
Slowly
fading, so is
My
heart, shading its hue,
In
woe.
You,
with gentle patience worlds apart,
To
me, the spoken word such a foreign art.
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