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The West Wing

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The West wing
By Anabocha Rejoice
aka the silent writer

The union of friendship is the best that can be made
When it is broken its fruits are hard to bear
A friendship of singleton is not one of fun
The full nutrients sipping out like waste

We had to play our parts to build a bond so strong
But it comes crumbling like a clash of cards hit by a wind
Its union that was soothing is now an intersecting nightmare

When two hearts hope to beat together
First all impurities are sent away
But when such live is not pure like a glistening spring
Betrayal and distrust are its ends gain

When one forces perfection too hrd
Imperfection is surely inevitable
Just as a raw wound
Is pushed into pure salt

The pain of a wound
Is hard and gruesome
All it does is add sorrow
Than bring hope

A wall freshly painted is a pride to itself
But a little dent
Is like a stab to the soul

By Anabocha Rejoice
aka the silent writer

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