My bloody heart

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Noon the night before where the valley was become a mountain ever reaching stars full of voidness and succumb, so tender the rowing goes moving through the waves little looping migrates heads buried in deepened craves, my owing is a simple on...

Noon the night before

where the valley was become

a mountain ever reaching stars

full of voidness and succumb,

so tender the rowing goes

moving through the waves

little looping migrates

heads buried in deepened craves,

my owing is a simple one

that life bestowed in play

open eyes to see the living

dripping in and through the days.

 

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