HarsH ReaLiTy

Would I welcome your concern into my sky. Allowing the cloudiness of your mood to block out my daily appetite of sunsets. Could I trace the slivers of silver hope peaking in between the rolling moods of your days. Might I shine my own light through the night so you know someone else knows. Someone sees the torrent within like a storm of moods and is reaching out a hand. A simple hand of concern.


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