Reopened eyes curse the day they were left shut.
The dream of you a cool river flowing gracefully through time.
Never ageing, never empty,
moments of reality constantly moving
Gazing long and hard wishing to be swept away,
I stand amongst the men with no words
Save the idea of good men,
it is tanted by shrowed blackness streching and extending forms of thorns.
Fragile thoughts of fear run rampit,
I am the fool waiting to be taken away by your beauty,
numb to the world your all that I hold.

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