10 APR 2017 AT 15:23

OPTIC CASCADE

Those aqua drops flows down the cheeks,
It has its own speaks and shrieks.
People possess this melancholic vibes,
And restrain their feeling through fake bribes.
Many pains had formed this spirit of fears,
Which are invoked by strangers and often by dears.
The scent holds a dim possession,
Which records a vague obsession.
It could be catchy as a crimson palace,
And could be used as a weapon of malice.
The path is obstinate and strange,
Where rhymes may be jotted by orange.
This redefines the curves of altered compliments,
For which we could sense the royal bloom of sweetness.


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