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Juanita May 2019
She was a delicate flower,
That had yet to be picked.
He was the vicious wind,
That torn away all her petals.
Her happiness soon became
the victim
Of his gusty blows
Now,
There’s nothing left
For her to show
Juanita May 2019
I’m ever so confused
Never do know what to do
So alone
In a world so cold,
I’m just trying
To keep my hold
The more that the days
Go by,
The less that I feel alive
My eyes no longer shine
And maybe the reason why,
Is because
My life is no longer mine.
Juanita Mar 2019
They say her eyes are,
So blue so beautiful
Like the sky.
But if only
They could see
The ocean
That they become,
As when the tears begin to fall
She drowns.

— The End —