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There's a pain that hurts and pain that heals; A pain that stings like angry bees; It may be one that leaves you sore; But never a pain did I want more There are eyes that haunt, and eyes that soothe; Eyes that pierce like a razortooth; But only once could I behold; Eyes that spoke of secrets, untold There stands a room beside a path; The sound of motors in the silent dark; Two quiet smokes against the wall; A sacred glow the shadows tall The ashes fall and thought ignites; A hope lingers inside a mind; But quickly dies before it spreads; This spark of wonder a quiet death It sneaks around to find a home; This quiet Hope crushed to the bone; It may have tries to return anew; Were it not trapped where memories grew Now no more do the faces glow; Against the wall or the room's shadow; The sole survivor is the motors' hum; And there lies Hope with its funeral drum.
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Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 12:46 AM UTC
Purple
There's a pain that hurts and pain that heals; A pain that stings like angry bees; It may be one that leaves you sore; But never a pain did I want more There are eyes that haunt, and eyes that soothe; Eyes that pierce like a razortooth; But only once could I behold; Eyes that spoke of secrets, untold There stands a room beside a path; The sound of motors in the silent dark; Two quiet smokes against the wall; A sacred glow the shadows tall The ashes fall and thought ignites; A hope lingers inside a mind; But quickly dies before it spreads; This spark of wonder a quiet death It sneaks around to find a home; This quiet Hope crushed to the bone; It may have tries to return anew; Were it not trapped where memories grew Now no more do the faces glow; Against the wall or the room's shadow; The sole survivor is the motors' hum; And there lies Hope with its funeral drum.
To the one who could have been
prashant-nagpal
Written by
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 12:46 AM UTC
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