Enclosed within a frame so slight that eternity may penetrate with light
These pores, gasping for love’s breath
But when denied, panics and sweats ensue
And seeps something akin to tears
When adoration not found, bends the fragile frame
And weighs it down, down, down
It is true, says hand and arm
We become dislocated so, and blind, when in this darkening world
Love finds us not objects worthy of devoted-ness
[We are demented now but no one knows]
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