The strand of hair fluttered about her face, caressing her every now and then, as if in complete submission to her beauty. Her blank straight face posed a contrast, made all the more stark by the absence of any cue. An emotion would have been an acknowledgment, the indifference seemed unnecessary an authority over submission.
Dew drops on the rose sit clear and round, Enhancing its beauty manifold; Sparkling in rainbow colors they appeal, But do they know its surreal; Akin fragrance, they shall not persist, The union is so short-lived; Touch the petal and they roll down quick, Out comes the sun and the trace is amiss!
Is there madness in the air or I'm in psychedelic, For emotions are on the loose; Unfettered they soar me on a marijuana-high, Or swirl me down the dungeon low.
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