Un-soothed Aliveness
My existence speaks of roses
I'm blood
Breath of thrones.
It speaks the essence of my soul.
I pour oils on my skin
Scented like unripe spring flowers.
But the essence stays unaltered.
Veils of softness don't soothe the hurting.
Stabbing.
Like a midst of a sunset or autumn.
When death murmurs colorful lullabies
And soothes us with warmth
Into another life
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