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■ The oak
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I miss the frozen touch
That shivered down my spine, The violence of the kiss That wasn't really mine; The calling of the mist That wasn't calling me, The silent song of distance That taught me to be free; I miss the diamond waters That always guarded her, Concealed by growing shadows, Her image they would blur; And slowly she would fade, Consumed by violence, And only dust remains; I miss my innocence...
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