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The EmptySitting silently
Painting pictures across vacant canvas walls within
Softly rocking in my thoughtless lullaby
Waiting for the shadows to pick a place
Between twelve and twelve, to take me
Are all of me
Blood drips with a distant echo
Through the empty halls of my ashes
Piercing screams to shrill the silence
For only The Empty to hear
Death lingers off every shadow, taunting
Darkest evils desend, from mind - to tongue
With the swiftest of hands, a door is opened between four and five
The deepest desires form from air to words from mouth
In a blind rage, a deadly dance takes step
Spreading the need onto vast canvas walls
Body buckles, from lack of, and the constant spin
Through blurred sight, I see
My own, creation
And now, before I drip away my last
I smile, in awe
Before me, is my own, is me
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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