poetry

N#2.bw

See no imahe here.

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๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿ‡๐Ÿ‡โœˆโœˆ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿ†š๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿœ๐Ÿ˜ต

As the rain settled.

Frightened and tethered.

Of all my monsoons digestive cohorts;

laid waste of such flushes those came out,

none of terra,

Only liquid matter.

 Please describe me of Omeprazole’s downside,

while all smiles of stressors lived on,

now it’s nowhere to hide.

My happiness is not my own,

it is when I can create from its core.

All I know my bone is a

pencil of my mind;

thine heart

is its good sharpener.

๐Ÿ˜›๐Ÿ˜›๐Ÿ˜›๐Ÿ˜ƒ๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ†š๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜†๐Ÿ˜›๐Ÿ˜œ๐Ÿ˜ต

ยฉOAM 

XhenoPagz 2019 ยฉยฎโ„ข

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