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Stare into the puddle
Of our blood
Knife made of false stars
Our hands of lust
Earth slowly crumbling
Before our eyes
Our lives
Slowly die.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
THOUGHTLESS │✔️
PoesíaThe words The petals On a flower that Thrives by appearance Is only Will merely Be a flimsy Taste of what's inside Why price By the eyes The symmetry Of flawed beauty As though As most Are weighed by Thoughtless ideals For those Four arrows A sma...
