For Life

No birth can come of this season,
as the heavens bleed at dawn,
her wounds marked by perfection,
though for imperfection I long.

For what of life I desire,
if not the beauty of a song?
To the voice of angels aspire,
to none but beauty I belong.

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Published in: on 09/07/2018 at 10:00 PM  Leave a Comment  

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