When the beats never met
how do you feel they stay strong?
It makes me a broken glass
where prints stay unnoticed
graceful yet so tidy.
A musical night or a funeral song
each assume the same.
I feel it, I mean it
little do I cry for it.
The roses smelt within me
notions break at my door;
it pricks me hard
nourishes with cocoons
spells bricks of charcoal.
I meet the fathom
still it breaks the maximum.
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