Background Noises
Listlessly watching tonelessly seeing
Hands twisted into the harmony of defeat
Minds growing with the molds of the unfolding
Of the sonnet of fate and its moments of discreet
Senses drowning into the pit of your false confidence
The urgent beating of a broken heart
Cascading velvet shuddering under the weight of the wind
Twirling among the blackness of this art
Tapping awareness in the annoying glare of an eye
Simple caress in the world in which you try
Little baby longing for its mother
Or the mournful wail of a wolf before it dies
You hear them everywhere, you cannot escape them
They are your leeches that haunt your every thought and dream
It is almost impossible to win against such renewing,
of a busted mind mourning to its very last frail seam
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