In a steady flow going down this drain,
My life blood drained on, leaving pain.
A deep searing pain, but I felt it not.
For by my own I have been burnt.
My once tender soul destroyed.
Torn asunder by my beloved.
My head is bent, in a bow.
Who will want me now?
Was what I thought.
It will matter not.
For in one hour,
All went sour.
I saw a man,
From a fan,
Hanging
Dead.
The
Man
Is
I
©Aweni
Imagecredit: EvgeniT
Here’s to the new you in 2017!
Nice pattern of drain
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Thank you thinkinkadia. I hope 2017 reveals better versions of us 🙂
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😄Yes, ofcourse! I’m far from any level of perfection
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The write up is pleasing to the eyes.. love it 👍🏼😊
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Thank you Aisha :). Glad you think so.
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Beautiful story.
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Thank you 🙂
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