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Nov 2018
A tiny flare
Inside my hands
Grows bigger at the feeling
The feeling of want

That big flare
Rushes around a sky
With clouds that don’t deserve
To be illuminated

Sparks shoot out
There’s rain coming from the clouds
The big flare
Becomes smaller again

Sparks turn to ashes
My hands are burnt
No more light
In this rainy sky

During this period
I lose track of time
Everything is coated in sorrow
It feels as if months go by

But then the clouds clear
No more rain is near
A drizzle here and there
But still, we’re safe
This place is all warm
And, now,

The flare is shining, beautiful and bright
In my hands
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