Pangs of pain
Off the rails
It’s not raining men
It’s raining nails
It storms a million pins
It hails a thousand thorns
It snows a bed of roses
But the petals are filled with scorn.

Hearts of wood
Burn to ash
Hearts of stone
Difficult to surpass
It sings a billion love songs
It speaks only three words
It shouts cruel intentions
And the obscenities are heard.

Hand in hand;
In the bluest moon.
Eye to eye;
Daily marooned.
Lips to lips;
Manipulating blame.
Flesh to flesh;
But nothing remains.

ink is free, so...

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