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Dec 2015
I cry blood
I cry on rocks
no one love
no life, no lights
I cry too much
The rise !
usually
Hardly fall
You were the pen
I was the empty paper
Your love as ink
Covering my whiteness
But, unfortunately
By your guilty hand
You shrinking all the words
Every dreams we had
Every step we made
I remember the sentence
Hello!
Sorry,
But !
Wrong number sir
Written by
ukown  Morocco
(Morocco)   
437
 
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