Rejection, dejection are they not of the same mantras?

Dealing with somethings or someone’s multitude of dramas?

For there once was a tale of a pure loves promise

Left open to the world empty and searching for its true awmous

But alas! The empty yearning lays in its wake, waiting for the poor innocent love to break

Dark clouds travel and the sad birds screech their morose melody far and wide

And in the slithers of existence pure love has to hide

For that dreaded feel of cold distance and warisome makings of hot bladed subjection

Are the exact ingredients to create the typhoon of feelings we call rejection

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