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| You speak With your fake European Accent, toying with your dangling Lies, feeling without Nerves At all, broken without Solidity. Liquid, flowing right Past my life. Ripples breaking The calm. Bends and kneels Without knowing, understanding What is said in between. Chants Bouncing against the walls Of my melodramatic soul. And you, caught in between The confusion of my life. Somehow You fit right in, without trying, Without wanting. We never really knew Why. Dust will fly around, A swirling, purple haze, Choking you, blinding me. Death Will come in a purple kiss, and Leave a thank-you note. Slamming The doors in a hasty goodbye. Purple is the color of The night. |
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