Who picked the flowers in the corner
Childish dolls are left behind with time
Some of the streets are no longer noisy
Those crisp songs are still around my ears
Those benches that pass by have our feet
The smile and tears are the taste of memory
A hug after a cold eye is a strong antidote
Fearless pain is the price of courage
That confrontation of love is like a knife
The opposite crowd is always searching in solitude
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