So you have told me there has to be a season of all these that are coming to pass.
I have told you what I have, have not, have had naughts and I ought to get of what not.
Yours is yours alone, mine is another while we get our logic and reason to have its fighting season.
You always have an attitude of no more fighting, it has become boring because of such things are lulled into a sleep and it de-value all that which we are to give each other.
Attention and affection all have lost its power.
About the Creator
Poetry is my past, the future rolls for no one. I'd rather have her exorcise my past and to entertain as life goes by in this chaotic world.
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