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Saturday, April 14, 2007

It can be said,
To be waves insurmountable,
Raging winds, storms, and ice,
The brimstone fire,
Hailing from the skies,

Empty of that sort,
Just quiet nights of no response,
Cryptic messages,
And vague answers to questions,
Left to desire,

Still so young, hopes easily dashed,
Peeling off the masks,
And candied stockings,
Hearing laughs not of my own,
Utopian bodies crumble,

Maddening to lie on my back,
Closing all eyes,
To reality, to faceless truth,
Feel the twists,
Moments of doubts,

Often it's not the whispered cries,
The absence, sudden rapture,
Realisation though unwanted,
I refuse
To claw against the glass wall.

Mused by Sukunami Taka around 4:13 AM

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