Faded
This is the year for thistle
All our hopes and dreams get carried away on the backs of butterflies
Why did you decide to give up your wings
My thoughts are the crowd of cicadas screaming in the scorching heat
A scene bled white by an unforgiving sun surrounds me , the copper of my skin melting into the patches of dying grass beneath my feet
I am one with the world it seems, losing our color together
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