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I took a stroll down the dusty streets today
The desolate paths were walled by lonely buildings
I think it's what they call "Downtown"
But I doubt they truly believe it

I opened up the door to a shop today
The creak was met by a clang
Of bells once happy to greet me
They say it's an antiquity they ought to keep around
But I doubt they truly believe it

I stepped into the library today
The shelves so full yet barren
Dust laid like sorrow
Longing for days gone past
They say it's a public place
Of commerce and talk
But I doubt they truly believe it

I sat down on a bench today
The sky looked down with orange tears
This place was only sorrow encased in buildings and roads
Full of people avoiding the pulls
To get away from this place, to a happier pasture

They say it's normal around here, to get lost in the loneliness
But I doubt they truly believe it
I started writing this intending on a happier poem, but somehow it turned into a rather sad one. I wonder if I can even write happy poems sometimes .___.
If you can hear this
Then I pray you come near
My heart isn't quite normal without you
It seems to have grown bare
So please return
It's an everlasting winter in my soul
When you're not around
To give it your warm care
What beautiful sounds
Do you whistle through my ears?
Chords of the heart
Are what I hear
Your notes of ecstacy
Slowly soothe my ears
You speak a language that knows not letters
No sentence nor stanza can contain your tears
You skip introductions and goodbyes
Instead you pull the latch and enter the door
That flows you down through corridors of years
Held in passages of thought
Like a winding staircase
Through the capsules of my very heart
Home be my heart
Where you, dearest, reside
Your ceiling be my love
Your floor my care
Your lamp my passion
Your door, my trust

Break not then, that trust
For a ceiling can be shingled
And a floor redone
A lampshade can be replaced
But a door, my dear,
Can only be cut out once
The grassiest of knolls
The most wooded of hills
Knows all our deeds
All our spills
Yet it continues it's love
It's warmest of all embrace
It forgives us our ills
As we accept it's grace

Pray keep, then, friend
A loving grace towards thee
who shows you the love
you forgot to receive

Forget not the knoll
On which all life proceeds
Do not slaughter the land
That gave you it's peace

— The End —