Are there many other strangers or lone rangers?
Slightly worried after a mere sight.
Sigh. Sacrifices are nigh!
For the night will bloom like a weeping flower,
like tears that metaphorically flow,
metaphorically evaporate.
Sever all bonds with the roots of a flower,
for they are useless,
bound to the ground whilst waiting to die!
The colors will never leak out of its wilting petals,
for it is on fire!
It is burning yet none shall save it
for that will be our only responsibility;
our only willing duty.
The stranger or a flower,
which life shall we save?
For this is no worldly desire;
just a simple desire.
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