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taps.What makes the grass grow?
That crimson, forcefully spilled with shards of metallic cold,
in a place where the fiery Hell meets with the earth.
So the answer goes...
Soaking up lost hopes and futures for reasons distorted in shouts of cadence,
these blades once green now that sickly scarlet.
water. that's the essence that which gives life. would it not be better to water with what gives life rather than with the essence of life itself?
shades.There is no rainbow for me,
to pave the way and guide
this tattered, tired soul back.
Stumbling over clouds of gray,
wandering farther and farther
away from the warming glow.
The darkness surrounds me,
taking me into its cold embrace,
feeding upon my growing loneliness.
My hands, they have lost their touch.
My feet no longer carry my steps.
There is no resistance. No more fight.
Left to the vices of sweet solitude, the
void pulls me forward (or backward?)
toward the end of the beginning.
There is no rainbow for me, to lead
me back to where this soul yearns to be.
The eyes, tainted and corrupted by the
lies society fed, they no longer see
in colors, but rather shades of gray.
The path was always before me, yet
my eyes were too blind to see it, my body
too numb to feel its welcoming warmth.
There was a rainbow for me.
incomplete.So many empty words uttered.
Pointless conversations had and interrupted.
Endlessly ensnared by saccharine euphemisms,
true intent never frequented.
How many sleepless nights
have we let slip by our bloodshot eyes?
So much time wasted wallowing
in what if's, should I's, and maybe not's.
A pity it's too late now...
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