Ashes of my existence

    I'm dedicated the purple of your hand where the sky is raining kindness when my birthday. I'm plunged in the gray of my acts night till morning and I think I still love you. Is it possible to write white when I'm ashes? And think like sea when I'm a drop. Where is my babyish thought always telling out my grievances and murmuring each moment of being with you? Pay attention to me. ....

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