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Mar 2020
This night I got lost
In a field of lilies
Some white and broad
Some red and fine
Both are for death
One for mourning
One for killing
And as the moon's light slowly fades
As the morning sun rises
And red becomes pink
Becomes yellow
Becomes blue
I feel the last remaining moth land on my arm
There is a peace in knowing it wont last much longer
And neither will I
No moths were harmed in the making of this poem
Echo
Written by
Echo  20/F
(20/F)   
  180
     winter sakuras, Chuck Kean, Reyna and ---
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