Oh Marya
The way her hair flows as she walks,
The way her lips move as she talks—
She’s perfect. Too perfect.
With beauty sharp enough to infect.
But still… why do I suspect?
Why do I feel that someone so bright,
So revolutionary, cloaked in light,
Is hiding shadows just out of sight?
Oh Marya,
I truly loved you.
I loved you so much it turned me blue—
Blue at your name, your voice, your face,
T...