Rose petal.
In a decade
Old diary.
Cries out
A story that's
Bruised and
Dreary.
In a room
That has died,
Sitting alone!
It's damn weary.
The stopped
Clocks often
Tell me a story
That's scary
All abused,
Cock protests.
My hand is
Not sorry.
Tell me,
If you wanna
Rescue, I'll be
Packed and ready.
Or else, there's
Enough hate to
Torch myself
And be done
Without a worry.
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