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She walked in with the midnight laugh.
Glittering of moon and flowers, being a chaff.
Her eyes: reminiscence of an ancient peridot.
When one looks too deep for too long would get caught.
Like a kite she looks free.
But only one knows she's tied to he.
He who chooses to look proud of owning her magic.
Only the observer knows she seems to lead a life so tragic.
I resent him, more than envy.
For I see her as pretty and he as ****.
I wish to confess to the soft ears, my heart's will.
And take away the sorrow in her mind still.
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