“Love that never told can be”
From the mouth of William Blake
A story killing the magical 3
A baby dies for someone’s sake
Without reading the history of heart
One dies in levels, prevailing in pot
There’s black in pure, skin in smart
The imaginary hellish headshot
Tossed to the floor once more
Casting calls and freedom falls
A smile, a shake, a tour
Of a familiar room which calls
Listen in silence
Awake to it’s ringing
Your eyes I sense
I feel your singing…
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