‘t was fire, frozen
a relation into pieces
when the heart leaved thy wrist,
the magic cup of anxiety, broke
a-came to be with you,
but found rather a parched branch, which
to my happy hopes
was a deadly smile,
how sweat it was; to beat
the ground, where this love was buried,
and to close my eyes
from that burning metal kiss,
how sweat it was; to
join with, without you
to shut the doors after misery,
to let the love I loved be free,
It is time to not think of me, and
of my soul-burning pain
‘cause, am pain-free
‘cause, am not to burn.
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