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Everlasting Scarlet

A lone ranger till the very end of this scarlet autumn does end

I know that from the heart now I will never be loved enough

Neither those greyish skies could hug me

Nor the blissful hortensias

Every breathing being seems like an ally to my most certainly congenial heart

Nevertheless, I am aware they are all here for a single second

With a tiny woeful flutter of my lashes,

They will all fade away into the graves I opened

I keep telling my soul to stop blossoming so colourful inside

No one can take it anymore and wants to crush its petals so hard

Intimidating, daunting and conceit are what the leaves look outside

I have got no one to blame for it which uplifts me not

I deem I ought to quit lying to my desperate poet essence

I may not seem naive nor a chirping sunn hemp for instance

Though admitting that to my most stargazer half of the soul

Feels like a potent step in a dumpster

Which I am frankly in for the longest time ever

A lone wolf is what a treasured spirit is

It comes in a huge pack and tries to find the less destructive way out all by itself

Though it hurts every time it thinks about its pack

The holy commanders had their fun already

The only thing that the wolf can do is swallow its fear and get used to the truth

Everything seems so utopianly delightful to me

Even in the most bitter times, I enjoy that sufferable bitterness

Even the death is my all-time favourite paragon

Yet why am I getting so unpleasantly complexful when I remember I am not lovable

Am I not thoroughly in love with my own being?

Or am I pretending?

What a sham, what a sham, what a sham.

I have no trust left for outside

Nonetheless, I have plenty of it for myself and

I vow that I will be inured that I am not quite endearing for anyone

It's better than all the lies I had been telling

All the lies I had been hoping…

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