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Nylee Aug 7
a million pieces
  it is how my dreams have become
little by little
  every little break a little
multiply and increase

By next month
  I'd be counting the billionth one
the reality is too real
  I see nothing ticks my list
and I am slowly learning to accept
  I am getting there

Now the darkness took over
  The dreams I see in the night
My back of eyelids
  grant me the solace
From the daily torture of day ones

Sometimes I see a face
  who know how to sew those pieces
it is better I stay clear
  These broken pieces would make a beautiful mosaic
  But any tear ahead will be the sudden death,
I'd be too distorted for any new wreck.
The Fortune's orange blush and light-gold face cross the pale-greeness of the stone decay. Though the crone vale and the mountains star-peaked high above, itself may rotten well, no loneliness resides in the Palace Divine; for among the chambers ruined and the bronzy-bluish of the Nile mosaic, her voice maternal, glorified; the Primordial Force, she echoes in the mind - not distant, but as if from a cloud. The Call is sweet and known from the Time when body was souless or soul bodiless, she cried: "Nature, Nature, take your part! Leave me strandless and light: I beg you; do let me be brave, alone and might! "
I wrote this after my university project on the sanctuary of Fortune in Praeneste
Ray Dunn Aug 2019
my mosaic
is shattered
my stain glass
in tatters
sometimes i hum tunes and sing words along with them and this cake into my head and yeah that’s basically it. it has no meaning in my life rn ****
B D Caissie Aug 2019
You manipulated me like clay into the finest of hearts.
Then smashed it to pieces into the most priceless of arts.
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
"How can no one see?" he said softly, almost as a whisper that made her brow rise in confusion. But there was a strange slight relief around the curviness of her lips and in those dark deep blue eyes that seemed to have lit up turning a shade lighter. She exhaled a sigh of relief as though she was glad someone was asking or even talking to her.
"How can no one hear the air carrying the whispers of your cries? How can no one see the merge between the depthful ocean and the mysterious galaxy in your eyes? Does no one feel the sadness leaking out of your pores? The way your smile is never complete, how your cheeks does not swallow your eyes no more. Does no one see your face and say You're a beautiful masterpiece made of all these broken pieces and I want to know more."
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
A masterpiece of intricate mosaic,
a beauty underlied with chaos.
She lets them see,
what she wants them to see.
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