It was about the midsummer murder
It happened under the oak tree
No weapons –
It was pure,
Just words and emotions
What’s it with love and love stories
And how one becomes so vulnerable
So trusting, so fragile
Why does one hand their happiness to another?
When it breaks – the heartbreak
It’s much like warfare,
Cold blood murder – pure yet sinister
This midsummer murder;
Was the same
Pure and no weapons
Just like a fragile glass shattering

 

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