By Grtest Writes
Under the tree of love,
without my other half.
A cold breeze of curse,
swift past the heart of gaps.
Steady rise of solitariness,
in the soul of a benevolent teen,
Baptized with the water of unhappiness.
The pains are severe for a boy of eighteen.
A lust for the word “love”,
The heart aches for the word “cursed”.
“I want you back my beloved,”
for my world is so cold and absurd.
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