It does still the same, the clock ticks
the door bell rings, the same guest coming again
but the violance surrounding, with silence greeting
the picture greets fine and looks good,
for me to see none to shy
the morning to wake up, with a red blink and sore
sounded the sun forgot to sing the song
a risk taken to ask frankly
for the untold of a truth, unspoken word..
It is not for owing, as it equally the same
for a rose could be, to a grave would be
simply for...
a smile and to aloof
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