love

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  • Love

    love

    The castle is ready to be destroyed by the prince.
    The princess is blind - still awaiting.

    The clock is tick -tacking.
    The blood in her veins is still slow.

    Then, suddenly the cue cue is breaking the glass of the cassle of silence.
    Noise!
    The prince was too slow,apatic and weak.He was smoking on back of his horse.

    A cold wave of wind entered the window.
    Short wistle
    The princess was dead
    turned into dry sand

    The prince was enjoying his horse.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    sansan’s Poems (4)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
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