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|A poem of love and hope.||
I look around me and sometimes wonder what has as great a beauty as the one I care for. It is then I realize that nothing and no other can compare with the size of the beaty of my lover. She is the drop of rain upon the rose, slowly caressing the petal upon which she was lain dripping down, harnessing and releasing all my pain. Soon the drop becomes the rose not giving up hope as she lives and grows.
|No More Pain||Undiscovered|
|The Writer's Hand||Void of Truth|
|Living Dreams||The Tear|