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Monday, 9 May 2011

A beginning

To thee I tell of love and jeer,

to give, a colour, it must be white.

Colourless and innocent predicts the seer,

but with honey comes its spite.

To thee I tell of disdain and betrayal,

and, cutting deep within the heart of day,

struck swiftly, clinically as moray.

With such dislike brought hammer to the nail.


"Look at your dream; there is all you covet,

 All that you cherish, together as one,

Each imperfection driving you closer,

Not for you, not now, not ever."


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