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 Grandeur Of Melancholy      13687 Poems Read



Sol Forsaken

I just starve on
the notion of
what is not there.

Pulled from the minds,
like the hairs on your head,
and that you get the good going.

That you lose what was there.

You treasure the damaged
and damn yourself once
before, just leave it at
the floor level. That you

going up. Like that
story brought, exile
yourself because
of the lot.

But because you took
what was elegance
and warped it into
forsaken
spark.




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