Yongle VoynichAug 261 min readPlastic HeartPlaster walls, which empty, stare inMy sipid soul: that solemn fares downA waterfall, yet, tender, cares forThe sleeping spark, which, blooming flares inWindows to my plastic heart.
Plaster walls, which empty, stare inMy sipid soul: that solemn fares downA waterfall, yet, tender, cares forThe sleeping spark, which, blooming flares inWindows to my plastic heart.
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