Femiπ©ππβ‘ππΎ
@fqtee
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Celina is Dead!
In the quiet of the night, where shadows softly spread,
A man sits in the moonlight, for Celina is dead.
Her laughter once a river, now a memory instead,
A heart that beats much slower, for Celina is dead.
Beneath the ancient oak tree, where silent tears are shed,
He mourns the love once vibrant, for Celina is dead.
Her eyes that held the sunrise, now cast in shades of lead,
A dream that fades to twilight, for Celina is dead.
The winds of change have spoken, their whispers softly said,
A heart so deeply broken, for Celina is dead.
In dreams, her voice still echoes, a song of love unsaid,
A touch that slips through fingers, for Celina is dead.
Oh, time, relentless river, with currents swift and sped,
Cannot erase the shiver, for Celina is dead.
His soul, a ship now drifting, on seas of sorrow led,
Forever lost and sifting, for Celina is dead.
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In silent noise, the whispers scream, A paradox of quiet dread.
The shadows dance, a twisted dream,
In silent noise, the whispers scream.
A mocking jest, it would seem, To haunt the living, raise the dead.
In silent noise, the whispers scream, A paradox of quiet dread.
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