AMETHYST

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Counted and read the number of days,From calm black to screaming hays

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Counted and read the number of days,
From calm black to screaming hays.
Drawn in different shapes,
Carrying unknown feelings inside the cape.
Wind of memories in goodness have sinned,
Keeps on coming back as hot and cold wind.
Turning and turning as the flashback
Moved the hands of the golden clock.
Still dancing in these eyes of mine,
Laughing cloud-nine truly one of a kind,
Wearing purple backpack
In the field of innocence that made the jokes cracked.
From that day indeed I fell,
But then I never tell.
Days come and go,
I know you're still there until tomorrow.
Enraptured from the heat of June,
The fact that it's only once in a blue moon.
Somehow, It felt nothing but the best,
'til you ignored the sparks leaving the rest.
In truth, innocence is pure bliss,
Though you're always there for me to miss.
No one can stop the rain from pouring,
Just listen to the flooding heartbeats in the serene.
There I've seen, dreamers' draining,
Still breathing whilst drowning.

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