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Oh, purple rose: unblossom to my will
And I… forever more shalt feel the red inside Fall into me, my withered rose… and die Succumbed to love when love is blind I too have closed my eyes so many times… And wept; And when I wake I find myself through you: I miss the moonlight phrase of our gait: “The hand that wrote: The heart that felt…†I’m bound to you, condemned inside to wait… But waiting is the hardest thing to do; Pace into my desire, sickest of them roses, Addicted to the owner of a kiss… Once shalt I taste those poisonous lips And then accuse myself of being yours.
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