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The Cost Of Your Hand

I awake on a bed of roses, 

Whose petals crunch like orphaned autumn leaves.

A ray of sunlight towards me approaches,

Dancing in the light are muddy speckles aplenty.

 

I can feel the air around me toy with my locks,

Which is as feeble as your grasp on my hand.

But I hold on

To you, this very second, this very moment.

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The mere sight of you sugarcoats my disill...

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