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The Artist
Displacement – shadows lurk into depth
Empowerment, a serenity of seeping truth
Pronounce, display and recreate – imperfections
Denial, false perfections conveying secrecy
A message in a bottle – hidden fatality.
Death – the approaching march of injustice lies within.
Where as the bottle swings out plain in the open,
Blindness conveys, the truth shines too bright
Bless thee, for I have sinned.
Cold blizzard of the shady and lonely moonlight
Endless, the reluctant space between each memory
Based upon such volume of lumonisty – such mass
There comes the hidden root of solitary
There comes the fatal consequence of retaliation
I condemn thee. – For I am alone.
Into a society bestowing the fabrications as truth
Complications sunrise across darkness of I
The vague sense of being in solitary disperses
Yet as relieving it might look
Yet as fulfilling it might feel
Trust – no one. – feel numb.
The past is an illusion portraying the future
As the artist of the present seeks either redemption
Or the obsolete past of corruption – which is it?
O – Such solitary, such secrecy in doubt.
The water pipe is leaking into the vast ocean
Yet no matter how much it consumes
It shall never be homogeneous.
It shall never be understood.
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