Through the clouds there shines again this little ray of sun, of hope. You call upon me with lips of glass, and I kiss them for the last time. My heart protrudes too proudly, some say. And I have to wonder what they gain by hiding.
(a.k.a. the attempt of a writer to exercise her imagination)
Through the clouds there shines again this little ray of sun, of hope. You call upon me with lips of glass, and I kiss them for the last time. My heart protrudes too proudly, some say. And I have to wonder what they gain by hiding.
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