The tears stream down my cheeks from my unblinking eyes. What makes me weep so? From time to time. There is nothing saddening here. Perhaps it is liquefied brain.

  • O Rose, thou art sick!
    The invisible worm
    That flies in the night
    In the howling storm,

    Has found out thy bed
    Of Crimson joy,
    And his dark secret love
    Does thy life destroy.

    William Blake - The Sick Rose

ANTWORTE / SAG DEINE MEINUNG

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