She comes apart and breaks so easily,
Imagining the life she painted on rice paper,
Hurts in the wind.
We ride our bicycles for the last time,
Uncut the wine and raise our glasses high in the sky,
A rhythm begins.
She said “I wish that I could be fearless,
Except the ocean tide like their warm arms,
Taking me over”
But suicide is never so painless,
I feel these changes come and these changes go,
The end, it begins.
She comes apart and brakes so easily,
Imagining the life she painted on rice paper,
Rice paper, rice paper.
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