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Seemingly hiding
But there's bout their
             home
Place they grew up
To achieve their own throne
Covered by sorrow
Like pine or
                     thy leaves
Never a hussle
After it pours to the
                                   seems

Careful little paths
          up
Some      and some
                                  down
Sleep all dressed up
but it's just a night gown
Care for each other
Cleanse one another
But its not a
                      lover
Just preseance of one's brother
Bright of the morning
one  lovely  symphony
Thy birds in a tree
As          as
      calm     can be
A mess of a thought..

— The End —