I saw your awed eyes loudly doubting me;
Isled, raw your flawed sighs howled, in silence yelled,
Eyed awful lies that spoilt us to a tee;
Your augured thoughts then soundly themselves quelled.
Oh, boy! Your odd smile augured luck and hope;
All ploys they plotted then lost, went awry.
On those quite awing days your songs my dope
Did mold me and my each belief gone dry.
So shall we both give it one more real try
To halt the process of frustration, hate?
Forsake, therefore, the thoughts that make us fry,
Allowing both of us to stall each date?
Oh, but your soul has not bled being dead;
All thoughts that you held dear hence can’t be read.
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