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Sep 2010
Those rocks that are thrown,
at my special house
you know that one?
Made out of transparent glass?
I see the tiny crack begin
to grow and grow.
Till bits and pieces do fall out
and memories begin to flow
into the world that is call home.
I warned you once
I told you twice
by the silence and solitude.
yet those stones you've cast,
have split the glass and
thus has set the inferno free,
and the devil torture me.
That simple seduction
and the beauty of your stone house
blown to the sky
to rain upon your crown.
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