Over the edge of yellow down,
Why you said, you love me?
Not forms any simple hope or lie.
Why you play grisly games.
There’s a whisper down the truth,
And always, thy fantasist falls,
On the way to my solitude,
Then i cried a lot sadly, madly and deeply.
Whooping madly in my frightened yard.
They are clouds, brief and duplex.
Am i so weak, No...................?
As flowers and thorns, silent like night.
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