Tears In Volume
Dries the eyes which cries.
Next to my pain.
Raining in one column.
I hate the clear blue skies.
I hate the colors painted on the wings of a butterfly.
Brush my emotions with the witches broom.
Cast my soul into a six sided room.
Stake my heart.
Cut off my head.
If I die.
I will be dead.
Do me one favour.
Please do this soon
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