Burn like the flame,
For a cold person, too warm.
It is, so robust,
Blazes me into dust.
Yourself is a reflection,
You don’t see anything in addition.
Nothing good, inside out,
Do me rage within our sort
Thought is a lack,
When everything goes blank.
Life being impressed wrong,
You hardly feel anything.
The light for you in me,
Is darker than be help.
The magnetism in you and me,
Is rather a run away.
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