A butterfly flutters while a bee flies, but who says the flutter doesn't bite?
A rose is a standard, a dandelion is a weed, but which one is more beautiful against a lovely green?
To hide is to weep, to love is to creep.
Tye died, and tongue tied, I looked up and saw a smile.
Quick to anger and easy to please. Who says you can't hold the world in your palm?
Angelic, holy, lost and lonely, dark over comes light while it slips through the cracks.
Smoke, a bar, french music, so bizarre, I stumble and I fall until I reach the other wall, I can't seem to see, my words are much to weak, but somehow I luck out. Entwined in mine, his hand.
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