Summer dreams fall to autumn ruins,
To be buried in the looming winter,
And drowned shamefully among the ripped paper snow flakes,
Stereotypical of hallow shattered-glass teens.
Paper cut pains pierce deeply, staining purity red.
Then again, it was never really purely white.
Simply an illusion, created from the absence of color.
The way I see it, we will all drown in hues of black and blues.
Our sickly pale, green tinted skin shouting for escape,
Lulled to sleep by the sweet taste of suffocation,
Stinging our lungs with razor-edged reality.















Comments
how it almost cuts off
--
Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.
- Dr. Seuss
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