You're the petals that comfort me
And the thorn which is as my sword,
The eyes that show the beauty in little things
and the illness in the acclaimed ones.
You're as deep as a blackhole
But as clear as dew on the grass,
As kind as the soil and equally tough as a rock,
hard to crack, since you're as you're,
the angelic you, one of your own kind.
You're my spine and the fire in it,
Let's keep it alive.
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