Folk story,
Moon of doom,
Soon bonds bloom,
Color of glory,
Storms roll on,
Sword of story.
Flood on down,
Toll of frowns.
Fond of wrong,
Whorl so long,
Roof of horror,
Fog swoops on,
Growls of doom.
Fools go on,
Ghosts of frost,
Howls of moss.
Folk story,
Moon of doom,
Soon bonds bloom,
Color of glory,
Storms roll on,
Sword of story.
Flood on down,
Toll of frowns.
Fond of wrong,
Whorl so long,
Roof of horror,
Fog swoops on,
Growls of doom.
Fools go on,
Ghosts of frost,
Howls of moss.
We feel in such a deep way,
flooding our veins throughout the day.
Some let themselves feel,
then move on, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Some cling onto their emotions,
causing commotions.
Some push it away,
For every word I can’t say,
I try to write it down,
but at the end of the day,
I know I’ll never find the words.
They jumble together,
like the sunset’s melting colors.
For every excuse I make,
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