It’s so cold and desperate and in the springtime I can't help but think of winter.
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Where my whispers turn to screams and I feel like I am drowning in it’s greys and reds.
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I wake up to find motivation and sight with clarity.
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Reborn constantly, like the birds fly south.
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Frequent and rapid at a natural pace; unnatural beauty.
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Swallowed by fate and soaked in hope.
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Reborn and soaked in hope.
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From A Nightmare
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| Stars Are Falling |
