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Mar 2015
As the wind blows against
the window and its clothing,
while today has began toΒ Β turn
into tomorrow, a drift the locks of
a feather spirals towards
the ever moving ground.
Troublesome hearts beat
spreading venom into every
possible vein. Arise is coldness,
bitter ends and misplaced love
fluttering throughout a thought
and twisting to and fro towards
its catastrophe.
I literally woke up in the middle of the night and started writing this.
Shanijua
Written by
Shanijua  24/F/Brookhaven
(24/F/Brookhaven)   
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