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Aanvi Batavia

Tragedy


4.1  

Aanvi Batavia

Tragedy


Never crave the rose..

Never crave the rose..

1 min 98 1 min 98

Neoteric, a perfect state of art,

Enveloped in crimson wings,

A beautiful green throne, broken tiara,

Along with scars imprinted on my chariss,

A heart longing for possession,

Queenin' in solitary under isolation,

And there he came, my pretended amour,

Embracing with a gentle caress,

Out of blue, a hint of lust in his eyes,

I supplicated, I bled,

All in vain for the cheek of the man,

Abnegated, withered,

My petals no longer flew in his disgust,

Kingdom fell, crown slipped,

Incarcerated in the spell of perfidy,

Black eastern nights, luminous lights,

Went on his knees, held me close to his girl,

Rejected, he threw me like confetti,

Cause, he who dares not grasp the thorn,

Should never crave the rose.


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