You see gold in everyone but me,darling.
It's a short story:
I saw grey sky's
descending
over the west-indies
a wind of hope that could barley
touch the east.
and you are calling my blue skies
a" mirage" or...a "random happening."
your 'conditional love
is strikeing.
You see the gold you want to see.
Sadly.
flaw to flaw,speck to plank,pot to kettle.
flaw to flaw,speck to plank,pot to kettle.
SPECK.
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