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The canvas bends and colors bleed together, dripping close
There's one beside the other heading towards the other boast
The brilliance of the three we look and find that one Stands Clear
A bright red dot - a perfect plot...but for the distance here
We're racing towards the end, our watercolors trailing free
We're cordial, together, but we fear we've yet to see
And our tendrils grasp for magic, but we're pushing back and forth
And although we're made of beauty, this bend could tear the three apart.
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