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Vines that Burn

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These vines cross and winded choking my heart with longing effort.
This fire as red as my blood that seeps through my eyes burns infinitely.
I am cold yet never do I shiver with these emotions ignited.
Cry I do not for my screams remain silent in his abyss.
Rain falls cool to the touch on my boiled surface.
A sword of two edges pierces a fragile conscience.
I plunder in the power of sorrow.
Thriving on this peace full of serenity.
I call for this wound to heal on my battered soul.
No reply comes for hope has straggled me to no ends of return.
I stand yet in my mind I flow in a river of crimson.
A melody haunts my ear.
In it a repeating message of troubled, straining influence.
Echo to me a secret to this love that is spoken of.
I wish to learn of this holy, internal harmony.
To not crave but posses a glorifying gift.
Guide me to a place of no comprehension.
To a forum of peaceful solitude.





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