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Curtain Call
You are beautiful,
still untouched by moon.
I am creating myth.
In small hours, I
release the pain at dusk
to touch you unsaid.
I think, not to think of
you, when nightingale comes
to collect your song.
You are beautiful,
still untouched by moon.
I am creating myth.
In small hours, I
release the pain at dusk
to touch you unsaid.
I think, not to think of
you, when nightingale comes
to collect your song.
