Thursday, July 17, 2014

Drowning deep into the meadows
Staring up on the sky high
The birds are singing
but the sounds,
too painful to be heard
The wind hissing
but the breeze,
too poisonous to breath in
The roses are blooming
but the thorns,
too sharp to not bleeding

And everything I see
Is nothing but colors
As if they come to life
The colors are dancing

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