A Shattered Visage

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If ‘love’ had form, what would it look like?
It might be something like a withering rose, grhtmling onto honest tears.
No one notices, or cares; it’s only an ephemeral entity of another time.
Blood stained thorns bellowing in the triumph of the abyss;
Wilting petals deserted by red that hides from the tyrants of reality.
But if you just look at it more closely, it will reveal its innocent purity through the dried edges of oblivion.
It proclaims its presence in the most subtle and elegant fashion,
And stands proud by the law divine it once had.

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