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a bouquet of broken things 🌻
Why is the world as it is?
Beauty lies not on surface but underneath,
Is it a fantasy to imagine innocence,
Blooming as a rose from its sheath.
Why is everyone rushing and racing,
Frantically darting around and chasing,
What is the cost?...
Beauty lies not on surface but underneath,
Is it a fantasy to imagine innocence,
Blooming as a rose from its sheath.
Why is everyone rushing and racing,
Frantically darting around and chasing,
What is the cost?...
