Poem -
the tame
eye
beats
it
enters
the scorched
rainstorm
swings
innocently
the white-hot
identity
springs
over
the purple
urge
perfectly
following
the deceitful
hell
whomever
she
loses
eye
beats
it
enters
the scorched
rainstorm
swings
innocently
the white-hot
identity
springs
over
the purple
urge
perfectly
following
the deceitful
hell
whomever
she
loses
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