Disease

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I've been walking on a field of roses.

I smash the softness of petals,

While many thorns make me bleed.


Those roses are my feelings.

They can hurt more than my skin,

It is not a superficial thing.


My love seems to be a disease.

It hits my heart as powerful as shot.

I never knew how to measure what is deep.


It was after you came that all I knew changed.

You brought light and then left me in pain,

Wondering when the pain will pass, while insisting on staying.

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