A breathless walk,
Through a world of imbalanced extremes,
Through the echoes of silence inside the mind,
That is for now,
Lost to the noise, the buzz,
Sanity never restored.
If ever the world lived lies,
Now in this catch of truth,
On this breathless walk,
That dizzies and nauseates,
Past the signs, the dummies
And puppets with strings,
Dancing to the rhythm of obscurity,
Content in the Shield,
Of momentary display,
The bubble of certainty never achieved,
But with the skeleton,
Of smoke in the night,
All remembered like oxygen,
On this breathless walk of life.
Drink of Coffee and dream of Ink, the worlds you will paint in blood. Thus a Writer is forever bound to these elixers. Or, dare I call them poisons.
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