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Grace silverwood Feb 2021
Rolled the dice, planted the seed
Watered it with the tears of need
Wished on a miracle each day
But in end who's to say?
What will wither and what will stay?

Rolled the dice, stretched my palms
Said my prayers and gave 'em alms
Plucked some flowers on the way, didn't know it was wrong
Sometimes, devilishly sang out of tune to the gods' song
But can the beauty of stolen petals, be replenished by the shrubs I plant on the way?
Who's to say?

Rolled the dice, ran the race
Did some things just to save face
Cried heavy tears and ruined the facade anyway
Probably should've turned the other way
Had the last laugh on quite a few merry nights
Tried to be the one to set things right
Did I do more harm, who's to say?
But I did try to swim across the ocean, I'd say
Did I cross it? Who's to say?
Grace silverwood Feb 2021
Every now and then,
I come to weep
at the grave of a love
that was once so sweet,

I never realised it was poisoning us

How enthusiastically we took turns to stab it!
Once for each time we broke each others' hearts
When I looked at it one last time, I saw
You stabbed it way more than I did
But whenever I did, I did it with a rage so raw

It left me speechless

I didn't know the evil I could commit
Till you gifted me the dagger of unkept promises and lies
And asked me to take a hit


The night I gave it the final blow
I danced vulgarly over that lifeless love
I wouldn't have been so reckless
Had I known I'd mourn my loveless life
For days that now seem endless

The love we birthed after 20 years of lone labour
Had to be killed within 2 turns of seasons
Even though we claimed "it tried to **** us first"
I am still out of good enough reasons

I wish and pray
every day
I swear
For there to be trial for us
in a court
Of whose existence I'm uncertain
But where our love gets acquittal
And is declared pure and free of the pain
that we accused it of causing us
Whenever we couldn't nurture it well

For now, we mortal earthlings get all, but a moment of complete clarity
There is no redemption, yet
Just us, in our separate worlds
And the grave of love, under the memeory tree

So sometimes, when I find myself too heavy with tears
Under the umbrella of broken melodies, I take cover
And come to shed a few, by the grave of love
Which I created and destroyed with a lover

— The End —