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Wounded Flowers

Hear the shuffled footsteps drag upon the cold alone

Looking for a distant stone an ancient memory

Dryness caked upon the ground with lives that never were

Looking for a trace of wounded flowers

 

Rows of dying blossoms dripping open in the rain

Satyrs running naked in the summer nights of love

Cracked and dripping idols close their eyes against the pain

Blinded aged still ...

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