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Truth To A Goodbye

By the flow of a mild winters wind, i could not conjure, the magic of love - I imagine scarlet skies, deep violet shines, the moon as she rise - Clear red petals from the dark maroon of roses, the smell which blooms across the fields - The linger of care - The mirror displays more of him, justified by me - The frame is scratched, the glass is cracked, the ash which burns my blood black - I am veined, by the dead in sin, to be nailed to death, the day i fall my die - My lies will smother all the cries, without the truth to a goodbye

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