THE VENDETTA


Be gone My Grace,
Disappeared in the wind
Brings a smile that increasingly faded
your warm has been frozen
no longer for my own
Be gone My Grace,

With Sayuri as a give
Love seed that you planted
Thrives to parasites
I choke a bit of sweet poison
But their thorns prick all over the wound
Proper I devotee Thou courtesy
In feint of personality?

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