You look at her as if she completes you. You forgot the you were a broken piece and now whole forgetting the thorn who fixed you. How foolish I am. A thorn harms, a flower doesn't. But ain't I came from a flower too?
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She Hates The Other Flower
PoésieFlowers born differently. Invaded by thorns, close to wither. Can't feel the pain, indication of too much weather.
