The soundwaves are the voice of your soul
And when the music stops...so does the hope...
Stock image -
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This poem is written for my project, titled "The Prodigy's Suicide"
In volume ten: The Downfall
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As part of
I would like to feature --->
The Petulant PetalProselyting the petulant
petal of paraphrase.
Call him king
and move onward to the morrow.
Nothing else sells
such as sorrow -
Never has value more than Ever
and the risk is all venture in a capital
soul and mind the sinner.
We know the body is but a sloth
and society is but an atom
reflection - eve of Adam.
But do we see the artwork
of the sagacity and artist?
No, we supply the demand of man
and women falter to impress. . .
he who does not impress himself.
There is no reprieve -
from the dawn of another humanized dream.
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