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Cold ice blue eyes stared in a daze not being able to waken
With the corpse-like white fingers that deepen into phalanges,
slender pale legs arms, frozen white, it’s all so thin that it can not be attractive.
The quivering and innocent voice speaks of whites,
for I do not understand, my mind goes blank.
The greens have faded away and against the brown rough ridge piece of wood lay red
Only the red, anger fills me of those who do not know flaming more heavily with those who knew and did nothing.
As the black darkness reigns the red turns to a violet, a purple, the strain of blood that had already cooled.
A warm touch to the bread from the needed white angel.
The bread I offer.
Blue aqua, clear, to purify that thirst and inner soul.
That once orange, yellow eyes that burst and blaze with life, no, joy, and the longingness and warmth of the yellow sun
Disappeared into a sapphire blue, but looking closer, a faded black abyss.
Pitch black, where am I? I lift my hands, the darkness in which I don’t understand because I merely see it, hear it, not experience it.
Death smeared with black and red ink, here and there, young, old; it’s all the same and leaves those bits and faint greens,
greens that are able to grow, if given enough, enough to pass this.
That green that will be able to grow, grow into that flower in which I held my blushed pink hand to.
Don’t give up on this green, made through the nurture of the glowing yellow sun along with the blue misty liquid of nature.
Don’t let it sink, sink and then suck in by the dark hole that black hole that can never allow them to return.