against the burning red wet sky
my song spills over turqouise and silver stitched silk
sounding olive branches, certain peace,
rebirth and loss
he has young birds to cage
and I've already flown away.
my song spills over turqouise and silver stitched silk
sounding olive branches, certain peace,
rebirth and loss
he has young birds to cage
and I've already flown away.
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