The question arises,
From the blackest smoke.
Who do you love
more deeply or the most?
Is it he,
Who drowns you for fear of your loss?
Is it he,
Who saves you, but dies without grief of leaving?
Is it he,
Who carries you to safety, then drops you the hardest?
Or is it yet he,
Who makes you smile the best, but makes you cry the next second?
The question remains,
Unanswered by silence,
As the question is killed
By what's eating her inside.
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