Writings Of A Love sick Fool-II

Drew your face on the paper,

Wrote you a song,

Found you in everything I saw,

Yet no painting,

Nor any poem that I wrote,

Could narrate how beautiful of a creation you are,

For words fail to elucidate,

How a million imperfections,

When put together like pieces of a puzzle,

Give birth to such a perfection as you.

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