It's a desolate world painted grey.
Each stroke of the brush is it's own, alone.
We gaze at this miraculous repulsion and wonder
what lead us to this?
...
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It breaks my heart to know she cries alone within her feelings of loss and abandonment. Paint her a picture of your heart and dry the tears from her face. Your worlds were not meant to be grey.
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It breaks my heart to know she cries alone within her feelings of loss and abandonment. Paint her a picture of your heart and dry the tears from her face. Your worlds were not meant to be grey.