Your hands

Your hands carry mystery,  and tears and pain. Your hands carry a lie, I can't retain. Your hands have something of magic and sorrow, their touch is soft but cold as if they kept the look of a scarecrow. Your hands are made of knives, and covered with feathers, they are slippery and restless, and [...]

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Cassini

When the finally rotten strawberries, the apple hanging in the tree falls, there will be a replica of the place we call home. When the sun stop shining over us and start running cold is when you can say that time will be gone. When the lighthouse in the rain shake and break is when [...]