I am an quiet flower, Like the achievement of dust Died esteem the dust; Been treated now human beings A token of elegance Evidence of propensity. I wanting my love, Nourishment in that my dust Butterfly business for me Breeze brought me greetings from the contrary feature. I am a withered rose, Aroma is not distributed But the loss trial. I fuss silently There quietly drink in a stone I yamp silently Like a treasure crack notoriety silence No answer No response. Perhaps I suppose died? Or never lived?

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