Tumble weeds and Trash heeps

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Tumble weeds and trash heaps
A sad slump of shoulders
Picture perfect for the desperate and deserted
Framed by the isolation
That really brings the piece together
Sprinkling mangled innocence on my grave
Their ignorance proving to be the beauty
As they dance over an empty coffin
My eyes are open
My heart is beating but
Scars still paint the portrait
Like I’ve never scrubbed at the colors





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