tunes of old melodies play on like a sweet carousal
round like a circle, like a wheel within a wheel.
it doesn't stop.
no, it doesn't.
a finely integrated and woven cloth of many colours
sombre dark and dull fills the linen atmosphere
it doesn't end
no, it doesn't.
i really hate this feeling
the feeling of pining.
confusion and pms takes over
leaving you helpless.
[God: Help]
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