I feel it as in frigid arctic cold, whiff air or sunrise sol.
I feel it as in my soul, as it feels in my character.
I feel it, not as for the very first time, or the second time
But rather as when it is meaningful
When it is significant
When it is paramount
I’m sorry, my penitent to you
I’m shamefaced a million times
Melted for love, contrite for you
My imprison to full love is cruel.
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