Me, My Author...
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White are pages of life
Until we ink it dark
I'm the author
I choose
To frame
My Life.
Maybe at this very time
Hour doesn't seem
In my favor, doesn't
Mean I'm dead
Forever.
Time is very dicey guy
Impossible to chain
In our little brain
For its always
The free bird.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş