Smile..

..it’s a sunny day, called Sunday. The reckless squandering of time, as it’s means nothing is worthwhile, just the pure joy of time passing by your distraction, which you chose carefully not to think about Monday.

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There once..

..were greater heads involved in the sinister quest for stories to be told. more than my thought’s fruits can bear, more than emotional despair, from where? When? How it came to be, that we exist and blame that we.

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Dear Sentiment Analyst..

..you know my heart by heart! ❤️ My feelings are an open book to you, written with passion, but recited poorly. Everything that comes out of my neocortex stutters and my mouth mutters the gibberish which my limbs perform, hail the self awareness that matters until we don’t.

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Soulshine..

..polished, waxed, all dressed up, shining like a buttercup. Yellow and bright reflection in light, pigments to suns delight. There are these days, when you feel it.

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Relentless..

..is the thought, spills over and brought pictures from remote, where shine and glory softly Eludes. Covered in a shrine, lies boldly in disguise, truths exactly worn in time. Moments pierced lowly through your mind.

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Gratuitious..

..in awe lies your mind bent and thrawn, yet your spirit survives all the tampering lies, as you have to reveal what is hidden to steal from its concealment in dark, ignite the fire – the spark, to bring back the sight of clairvoyance and light!

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[x] When I saw..

..the young girl’s eyes, her fair hair and her thighs, her bosoms, smile and crimson lips, the lustful curves and sinful hips. Oh boy my heart was pounding fast, faster than a second lasts and shortly after this epiphany, time moved on and no more to be seen was she.

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