I am a shade dissolved
in the silhouettes from my past.
Where shrill gets no ears.
And hope is stuck, in a,
precipitation cycle.
Evaporated by vexatious malice.
Sentiments sedimented,
by musical centrifuge,
lost otherwise.
A condescending stare,
is all I win,
from my mocking self,
forgetting the bonds akin.
A weary mast longing for sails,
in this stormy night.
Driven by a drunken sailor,
forcing it to stay upright.
Breaking this illusion,
moonlight came in,
gushing through my grave.
Carrying my crimson soul,
to a dimension unknown.
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