I told so

a figure for being poor is beauty, though

and I told so and find beauty in the corners,

circling a loose pendant is known for love,

as to baptism to the varied love song,

In case there is running the need for love,

I bend down to feign illness that rattles,

the whole yard to standstill there is,

my bounty waiting to be eroded of,

more love and destiny. My sleek look,

for beguile and the end of the seasons,

As I grow more sullen than the night,

in which to choose my own aloofness,

as wanted to wane and pass into foaming,

love affair off the bending arc a little awake,

and eloping with her to the forest.

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