𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒, 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠
𝑆ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑛, 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑣𝑎𝑠𝑒
𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒, 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝐷𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑑,
𝐴𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑,
𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠,
𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑟
𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝐴𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑠𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑟𝑜𝑤,
𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑙𝑒
𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟
𝐺𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟
𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑠, ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒
𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠,
𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛,𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑠ℎ𝑒
𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒
𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟
𝑆𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤 - 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒
𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟
𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠
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Life is lonely lethal love
Poetry𝗔 𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘁𝗿𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 Have you ever wondered to yourself that what is life? What is purpose of life? 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 - 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦...