Beauty always ends the same,
these sprinkles of life in life,
they always leave a certain fragrance,
perhaps mystic, perhaps disguised.
Lies can sometimes be entrancing,
a taste somewhere in between,
between blood, tears and water,
sometimes dirty, sometimes clean.
Trust is rarely a thing to find,
in open and uncharted hearts,
it brings a promise of love and hurt,
forever wanted but shunned when it starts.
And love is never understood,
nor captured, much less taken,
It lies somewhere in between our lives,
between beliefs of being forsaken.
Thus I am here once again,
with this fragrance, taste and promise,
living somewhere in between,
insanity, love, fear and solace.
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