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￭ of the fingers from the rest of the week
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2013-12-17 | |
Life is not like it may usually seems to be
Look at it through the hollow of the stony gorge
Life stands alone like an abandoned withered tree
No birds anymore to chirp or sing a song
No shadow for a traveler to rest and refresh beneath
Nothing that which spring had brought for long.
Only a small footprint left to sorrow for the while
You never know when this last mark will vanish too
Aqueous sadness and still bereft of its blessed smile.
Mystery of Life changes faces with passing time
What was once blooming spring deadly autumn turns
Music that Life was loses its melodious chime.
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