Our Meadow The empty feeling, And the pale skin, The White clips, Slowly healing. The darkness inside, Never to be shown, The ripped wallpaper, Gets pushed to the side. Yet we danced in our meadow, As if it was just us, In our thoughts, Not shown to any fellow. We live like we are gonna die, And our lives as the side effects, Our razors as our parting gifts, And our dreams to fly. We could fly to our meadow, As our hands brush the grass, Our toes tickling the flowers, Me and you and our precious hearts.
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