He was so damn beautiful, and so full of life.
He was everything I did right and everything beautiful I'd ever imagined.
For him: I'd have done anything to save his light.
Which was why that night, I'd taken my life.
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YOU ARE READING
'Silent' Clouds.
Poetry¶Words have no meaning, unless you make them, turning them into a spontaneous overflow of rhythm¶ ¶A string of broken pieces interwoven into into poetry. Broken symphonies, turned into poetry¶
