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A Sorrow Rose
A sorrow rose of midnight ambrosia. Worn in sleep with guilty nettles of thorns, a dreary bed of wheat. Composing with the silence, a piccolo whistle at twilight. Laying me down to weep, as the attar runs deep. In my heart, an ever-beating sea of a thousand clichés and midnight ambrosia worn in sleep. In the world of our Creator.
Published 21st Feb 2023
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