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The Witching Hour
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In my summer, that felt like winter

I was forsaken as forsaken could be . Feeling ugly, and all so Incredibly empty

Undesirable in my own image oh how backwards

But it was a given

That an angel who believes in me

Would be sent down from the heavens

in order to assist me and to heal my wounds

All the battles and insecurities were washed

Away by her presence

She was the swat team to my demons

And As the moons came and went

I stared At them in hope, with her in mind

Unfortunately , Her beauty is something,

I would never touch

Yet it brought me life,

As if magic water

Was poured on a dying flower

At the witching Hour

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4 posts with the exact same title by 3 other authors
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4 months ago