" Had you stolen my Springs, I could've taken them back .. Had you painted my summers blue, I could've tried to see the sun peek through.. Were you as cold as the winter, I would've fled for warmth .. But what do I do, when even as torrents pour down on me, I desire for nothing else but pain, and the feel of you on my skin .. I wish you were a colour that could be wiped away. But when you were what marked my Springs and Rains, and filled my Summer and Snow .. What do I do besides watch - As on me - more and more you grow .. more and more you grow "
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