AN ALPHABET OF PAST HURT DYL AN ROWEN
Armour our Bleeding hearts with Careful civility. Disquiet runs strife, Endlessly laughing For the next day to come. Graciously accept the Hangover from last night, but Inside our bodies there Juggles a clock. Kept at bay though Languor and warmer days, while Men have tried to alphabetise & Neuter our hearts Over scorched fields and Prayers, but I donâ€™t want Quid Pro Quo, Rather Iâ€™m simply happy to be Someone with you. Taken from years of Unhappy ticks, our Very clocks seem to beat When we are together. Except, when the Year dances as fast as the Zither, I play a new melody.
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