Cryptic self
Buried on the surface
Lives lost in tomorrow
Lives lost today.
Empty shelves
Fulfilled with air
Ideas abounding the all,
Dreams on pins dance.
The ugly blade
Lay rest the not being
Tomorrow has come and past
in death's solace.
Spirits exposed
Dust grooms the wind
Desperation, what a word,
Loneliness is.
Sanctimonious pride
Righteous despited love
Pleasant serpents sigh softly,
What gain?
Midnight burns
I am what I am not.
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