Wuthering Heights

Flowers on the moors,

Await for rain fall,

In melancholy,

Standing still,

And the wind dances,

To breathe life into them.

I Heathcliff,

With the ghost of Catherine,

Wonder and linger,

In an enticing euphoria,

I shower my love,

With thorns.

In love with the dead,

Under hallucinations,

Screaming,

Catherine,

Oh Catherine.

The moors live the truth,

Of this everlasting tragedy,

Buried are two lovers,

Who lived in agony.

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