The Dream
The sky
The roots
Forbidden fruits
The cry
The lust
The flesh is dust
The rope
We grope
As we sink in deep
The grip
Will slip
As we slide into sleep
The dream
The scream
As we fall in our sleep
From the sky
To the roots
Like falling fruits
The babies cry
Made in lust
Yet is made
from earthly dust
The end will come
The dust returns
As wood to ash
The fire burns
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