Some pages are whiter than milk,
Black Hole are darker than time,
But none can read my mind .
I am unknown till now,
that which part of mine
knows me well .
Blacker ,whiter I don't know,
a single step,
That how can these depression, sadness of mine cannot further
develop into a spine.
Why do I know the feelings of others?
Why do I love other people?
But, don't know why I can't embrace the feelings of mine?
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