Daffodils
It's the 20th March again,
The clouds can't hold crystals to rain.
The old well that dwells in woods,
Peacefully humming all broods.
Turning up the level of fears,
Filling itself again with bitter tears.
Echos of despairing souls that reside,
wretched air that spreads deep in void.
Yet, trying to bury all demons that swells,
And finds a blooming self in gleeful daffodils.
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