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A wilting blossom, crying in the wind
Barely bloomed, yet growing wings
She can barely fly
The deeper she looks, the more cracks she finds
In her personal little abyss
Her porcelain mask lies in shards by her bedside table
A black heart, her blood now runs clear
The weight of the world rests
On her shoulders
They crumple now, more that ever
As her wings are crushed by the burden of life
She looks to the sky, and awaits for the sun
To bring a new tomorrow
Improvised PoetryBeside one another, yet oceans apart
A link between has been broken, and fastened elsewhere
The string that binds me to you; is versatile, yet fragile
Do you concider me? As I think of you?
As the distance between evaporates, the waves ripple gently
against the vessel. A gentle breeze flutters against the sails
and droplets of water fall. I am home. And I am one.
The bright side of the moon
The dark side of the sun.
Ever bright, evermore.
The equilibrium of life, and the imbalance and impurities
which make the world go round.
The sun and the moon both shine do they not? So different
yet so alike. They shine
They both light the way,