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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 ...
Tuesday 22nd September 2020 10:01 pm
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