Cavern eyes and mystery
rhymes.
Sheer tiredness and tender
lies.
Created from beauty and
created from terror.
The poet sits there in splendor.
She was in awe at the truth
for it bleeds through her
very body.
This world has been lying.
Tying everyone up in
invisible rope.
Having false hope is like
putting your faith in a
farce.
Say? Watch her shoot
darts at the crazy clown,
no one sees.
Far in the distance,
there are memories
she no longer wants
to see.
Far in the distance,
she stands there
staring back
at what?
Nothing, perhaps?
Or the opposite?
Come and take a glance
by mere chance at what
she sees.
There is a blooming rose
the color of snow white
soon to be dyed in red.
Or a blooming rose the
color of crimson red
soon to be bleached
back to white.
Let’s all disappear.
Date: 5/1/2024
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