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You are not what I want, I wish you'd stop "loving" me. How am I supposed to know Love? She eludes me on her angel wings until   my branches can reach   what humans ignore above us. And I can't blame her. I wish I could hide, too. You, with your angst and growing needs; They aren't forefront in my mind As I am for you   A swan at her best,   A cuckoo at her worst, And if possible, I'd dazzle all   with my blue-green plumage. I wish I was ready; I can't fly just yet.
0
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Yoked Feather
You are not what I want, I wish you'd stop "loving" me. How am I supposed to know Love? She eludes me on her angel wings until   my branches can reach   what humans ignore above us. And I can't blame her. I wish I could hide, too. You, with your angst and growing needs; They aren't forefront in my mind As I am for you   A swan at her best,   A cuckoo at her worst, And if possible, I'd dazzle all   with my blue-green plumage. I wish I was ready; I can't fly just yet.
avondale-kendja
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
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