Twinkling orange in black with a stormy gush of fire kissing the moon silence in dramatic.
I hear dead mourning in graves i see children crying, i walk in the black noise with no essence of light.
Shots of crackers hail in safety a walk side by makes me fearful, a spin off wind till time we suffer hypocrisy.
With stand of talks, old ones tell the tale of justice and survival. Young dissociated in illusions, i walk back to my home where four walls fire some rage. I enter in guilt with talks in gesture and head bowed down in respect.
My other half is missing resistant and resilient, with anger widowed in love. With his absentia i fell a part missing am i scared for him. I am in fear for him.
The wooden show of pride acknowledges no shame of leadership, follow in ignorance we end in misery.
Life you dying beauty.
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