When lightning fell and fire kissed the sky,
My heart, a bloom, was left to die.
In doubt’s soft shade, my trust grew cold,
The truth, though near, remained untold.
Those words of grace — whose voice were they?
If not from you, then drifted, did they?
You were my song, my sacred tune,
I lived in hope... but hope died soon.
Your glance once lit my youth like flame,
You turned away — I burned in shame.
No love, you say — then why the pain?
Why tears in storms that bring no rain?
So if I must be scorched and torn,
Take this heart first— it's tired, it's worn.
And with the dust of dreams you broke,
Let ashes rise with every smoke.
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