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Roses and poetry
When I write poetry,
My soul smells of roses,
It dance crazily in the garden
Of them.
Sings madly with the music
Of air.
Cherise herself in the shower
Of rain.
I've written...
My soul smells of roses,
It dance crazily in the garden
Of them.
Sings madly with the music
Of air.
Cherise herself in the shower
Of rain.
I've written...
