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Upon the doorstep of my paradise, You’ll find h e l l i s h pansies and t a i n t e d tulips, obscured within a heart-shaped topiary…. As the sky is a deep purple b r u i s e, where daisy chains run the length of open c o r p s e s, Yet the altruistic sun too cannot disperse this f o g…. For what you thought may be the lane to the harvest moon, is a feasting of bitter petals and fruits. Not every aesthetic flower smells as sweet, and not every star that flickers is your golden lamp.. So walk through my haven of truth with an open mind. ….. Ever since oxygen became my gravity, I've been forever fighting- road crash of emotions… I'm still crashing as hopes keep crushing. Sometimes somethings aren't what we perceive from our eyes, whilst nothing may be deciphered as it should be, running your thoughts through this web of woven words can drive you up to an unfamiliar cliff, so save yourself from the sweat of having to read between these lines. I speak in eternal metaphors, as I follow the roots of where my pain has emerged. Emotions have exploded from corners where my soul was most at peace, when heart breakers and dream crashers thrashed my once virtuous visions, that left me hanging loose with alienated alliterations, until the premonition of a silent savior, who emerged from the scars of wounded warriors, his enchanted melody eliminated my feelings long dead, igniting an internal bonfire within an asylum of triggers. Although simple minds cannot comprehend the motionless existence of splitting paranoia deriving from an archive of old poems, my ink refuses to freely flow in lucidity, such is the world of virtual insanity, where unwanted labels are tossed like feathers of the fallen. In the coexistence of downcastness, It's no coincidence that I resemble a cumulus of clouds, before they form into a seething storm, nor is it a surprise that I am a profusion of rays before sunrise. I am the alchemistic shadows before darkness I am all the little details you chose to abandon.. so let me revive in undermined silence. where speech is judged as a sinful oath, only a luscious psycho would resonate with. Trust is a double edged dagger, translucently lost in translation, where precious memories, trigger the beginning of an unremitting end, with guilt dosed in deprived skeletons, I have buried deep inside me. I no longer live in the past where there is no refund for regret. Passengers who travelled without a guarantee, were unable to take control of my steering wheel, quitting this 'road trip', leaving me like a rejected vessel. I wandered on a lonesome path, until a serenity of waves led to words, resembling petals and pearls.
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