| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - Blinding to the senses of me,Taste only knows sawdust,Vision knows no colour,Touch is an illusion.And I, left ravage for the wolves.Upon this empty bed,Struggling to raise my hand,Trying to grab your ghost.Ghost there is not,A picture frame instead.Your timeless face,To beautiful to be fully captured.Forever expression you hold,Always that weak smile,Anticipation- lonesome sign,The coming of the R
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