The lost hours of mountain ranges,
blank with clouds of misery.
The generosity of the sequence of love.
Existed singularly,
Forgetting to be shy,
pretty now with the horror,
momentary lapse of time.
She was fetish object, feral with hook
Made a story worse,
Devoid of her own reflection.
Badly they need to suspend her thoughts.
Violent forces cracked the sound of bad. Anything could make her sick,
testing her sorrow thoughts,
Empty, except for a stange past,
that hang up if you let it in the clouds of misery.
So let the moment pass, with dead leaves in tub
filled with colors of saturation of people’s existance.
Weather tasted like thoughtless freedom.
Coloring everything with sadness,
mislead the meaning of freedom with demanded promise.
Mistakes that excited the major thought of sixteen,
Vision drifting peacefully into raining silent of limit,
Keeping an eye on summer love.
The girl didn’t cry until later;
blue yellow green seconds of splashing water on her face
Only to let moment pass.
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