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Its raining.
Pouring,
Vivid flow of sorrow.

It rained too.
On that day,
Those spider lilies,
Outgrew you.

Now,
Every downpour,
Is a requiem.
Singing your name.
Sleep well darling.
You took your gun,
Out and point it at me,
If that makes you happy,
Just shoot me.
Endless arguments between us that never seem to be able to reach a conclusion, you were never pleased, Unless.
WaterSheep Jul 5
I was a fool.
A fool that believed,
And on your stage,
I acted my part flawlessly,
The way you wanted me to be.

— The End —