Doing my life narration,
Lost in a stereotyped station.
Listening to the silence speaking,
No signs of any hurts healing.
Plucking out thorns out of the coat of memories,
Living life under the shades of falling drops.
This is a part of my life tale,
Only part, which hurts like a body pierced by nail.
Now looking out of the window of the dark side
Only thing I see is peace and brightness beside.
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