I am like a fishing rod; wherever I pop, or THEY, through me |
From their green fragrance
watermelons are bleeding...
Birds are as free as
they are trapped in between the...
The bright blade of truth
I draw from the sword sheath of...
His swords never seek
death or vengeance, they only...
Love me incomplete,
the way I am, otherwise...
Did the wound existed before
the intrusion of the knife...
The mediocre truth:
There is no truth but...
Roses are countless
so as the pages of this...
Poor little insect
finding his way back home in the maze of...
We've indisputably
put up a fight...
Hide your drunkenness from the wickets |
Whatever prevents you from seeing the beauty of others, denies you the beauty of your own. |
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