A year is quite enough to heal one's wound;
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but half of it is quite long for one to be forgetful.
it has caused so much ecstasy
everyday of every week.
when it ended, it has permitted all the thorns
that made me so weak.
invaded by thoughts that thrusted out all the strength
conjured all forces that extricated my courage .
along the prevalence of my agony
a gleam of light resided in me.
now the thorns have gone
and the flowers have blossomed.
the grass is greener
and the light has shone brighter.
u always hurt me, u always make me cry...
u turn my days into nights and shift into darkness the remaining light...
yesterday u just made my spirit so high...
but now u caused me to breakdown and cry...