A bubbling creek
rippling with a miasma of pain,
A twinkling ribbon of solace
to a sad heart
as it ponders on its bank.
Does it—the brook—have the ability
to smell sadness in others?
And offer its own song of pain
as the musical chimes of joy to the visitor.
A flowing sadness and a frozen one,
Both of them turning paly
to withstand the shower
of the frozen pellets of pain.
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