It's hard to tell you, when you are not around, like malevolent thoughts hindering sanctified angels. A pure heart, of gold, of platinum, easily robed taken as if it were Da Vinci's masterpiece from the Louvre. I beg to differ, not so easy, it takes talent and mind. But I wish you were here, maybe things would be smoother. Once, I looked into the sky to see the sun shinning its ray, as if it were making love with my fair skin, warmth and modest. The rain pours abuses my face, tears my head, whimpers my body. Strangely enough, you know not of what I speak of, for you not know I speak of you.
Its okay, I can sum it all up: listen carefully, for once its over the voices will be gone.
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