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Feb 2019
It's strange.
Progressively faint,
Denouncing a saint.

It's strained.
Every smile forced;
A pain to paint!

It's a disdain.
To detach it from my veins,
Watching my affections wane.

It's a change!
Perverse propulsion, *******
Into a new unwilling, unsuspecting
Star, sun, sky.
From the hollows of her heart.
Bernice Helena
Written by
Bernice Helena  20/F/Singapore
(20/F/Singapore)   
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