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My Love was a Flower
I liked you
Liked not loved
You nipped it at the bud
You made it wither away
Never was it watered
Nor given the sun
Eventually
The wind decided
To pick it up
And run
Thus ending its misery
Don't frown
Don't despair
The flower's pain
Didn't las long
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Crushes in away are like pretty flowers humanity picks.
Once plucked from the soil well
They kinda wither now don't they?