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The beauty made me bitter.
The warmth has made me cold.
The storm has made me silent.
Love has made me hate.
Colours of a grey existence.
Sounds of a silent past,
tear me apart.
A silent acceptation of bitterness,
From the shadow where I stand.
An ash-grey sky drenched with many questions.
An unintruded cycle it is it was it will be.
