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The sun rose out among verdant still hills. High peaks, forests and earth stole their eyes away from this charade. Strands of light refuse to illuminate me. As the the play proceeds with divine authority. Each bird is standing on its feet and spreading its wings. Tigers brandish guns at their young, unaware of the anguish hungrily stalking behind. And the men with hearts of black gold walk away with their heads down. As we are all eaten away by ignorance. The hands of fate stitch together a torn garment of time. Embroidering its history of suffering. But the answer to your questions won't be found in gods clothes. There's a lot more suffocating water in this ocean than treasure. But your heart withstood the weight of it all. And its callouses grew over their shadows left behind. But when it beats, I can still hear the screams Of your abandonment.
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Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 12:33 AM UTC
Not Much Of A Poem. But Something.
The sun rose out among verdant still hills. High peaks, forests and earth stole their eyes away from this charade. Strands of light refuse to illuminate me. As the the play proceeds with divine authority. Each bird is standing on its feet and spreading its wings. Tigers brandish guns at their young, unaware of the anguish hungrily stalking behind. And the men with hearts of black gold walk away with their heads down. As we are all eaten away by ignorance. The hands of fate stitch together a torn garment of time. Embroidering its history of suffering. But the answer to your questions won't be found in gods clothes. There's a lot more suffocating water in this ocean than treasure. But your heart withstood the weight of it all. And its callouses grew over their shadows left behind. But when it beats, I can still hear the screams Of your abandonment.
Who knows. Probably just tryna write fancy.
Shiyahumi
Written by
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 12:33 AM UTC
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