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Love is a re-united bud,
of colours spawning yet forever dud,
one reckless move a stupid mistake,
and this carnation of colours is a bed of hate,
love is a dreamless word,
yet full of passion,
a wondering mind,
a magnetic attraction,
but still then,
if this love exists,
why do people envy this,
do they crave someone else's attraction,
their passion their magnetism,
or are they just greedy,
full of hate,
waiting for their colours,
to be laid upon slate?
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