There's my home, out there
An inverted painted image, somewhere.
There's a garden, within a garden
And an obtuse angle, far from a square.
There's a bubble ready to burst
As greedy gravity looks to satiate its thirst.
A young branch with its first teardrop
Is learning to let go for monsoon wouldn't stop.
An inverted painted image, somewhere.
There's a garden, within a garden
And an obtuse angle, far from a square.
There's a bubble ready to burst
As greedy gravity looks to satiate its thirst.
A young branch with its first teardrop
Is learning to let go for monsoon wouldn't stop.
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