Prophesy - Poem by Vincent Silvertop
I hear the sea, speak of she.
And on a bed of forget me nots.
I know the path has thistles on each side
Dont go to the desert.
The prophesies dream.
Of peace and harmony.
This forbiden love.
More sweet than doves set free.
Can be touched.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You