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Delusions of grandeur is what I call you because I cannot fathom you as mine and you solely exist beyond me so are thou in my head dear You.

I saw you in yellow today, a colour I haven’t seen you wear before. I naturally thought you best suited for it, alas! it is my favourite colour so you had become an essence more in my nightmare of impossibility which you maketh.

When will I ever be over you? I ask this the same way a scientist asks when will the poles turn, girate.

I must accept the gravita of your aura. Why am I drawn so much towards you? Why the coincidence? And why do I reject it so much? Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just ignore the lot?

 

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