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Martyr - red painted hands
Opiates silence the pain...
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Footsteps where they should not be.
Is this, in fact, insanity...
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A thousand
cherry blossom petals...
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Family as well as friends
you can't always count on them...
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"Am I in trouble?"
she asked, as an ambulance...
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Metro madness, Chaotic city
Perforated ozone, what a pity...
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Did you even see me?
standing there...
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A sanctuary of silence
where beauty breathes among trees...
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I am plagued with routine regret
at a bedside where I exhale in the arms...
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What if the sky is made
of trees, the sun of white silk...
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I've always feared darkness,
but not because of what's lurking...
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A withering soul
lost between titles...