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My most beautiful existence is my most terrifying dream that turns into a nightmare with no happy ending, just tears streaming down my face, leaving stains on my shirt and a hole in my heart...
Let the stars
Convey the enigmatic stories
Of the king,
And let it be known by the
Whole philouran.
I’m a philouran
“Do all poets wear masks?”

a stranger, unwittingly flung
into the path of the flurry
of my pen, asked me

No, I said. Only the sad ones...

“Aren’t they all sad?”

he said

(Check mate)
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