Mourning the sharp incision
wound the soul slashes
parts. Who is me
more than others,
steps to create an echo
a new unknown
the melody. I recognize
my own among thousands,
he is my hero
this life.
Flowing through
tears, I feel
a strange feeling of wishes;
spring force not
the light will grow.
Over the years, I understand
in need of a heart itch.
He has always been for me
more than others,
hardly ever
I will confess to him.
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