Love , my walking disaster The fresh air of sweet sorrow The basket of pleasurable disdain . The aura it brings We are bait to its alluring scent The one that leads us to our deaths Those rocks we kept looking at for decades slowly begin to fall but we can't move away , we are glued to the spot of our demise Enjoying the fall in bits , till it rains down with enough holds The ground smiles as its creates room for each person as they sleep. Love hands them the final rose before it closes our doors.
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