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The Color of the Seas

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Because my eyes are brightest when I cry

My soul seems to leak from the soft edges of the white space
Dripping with it, my confidence
As the volume doubles it streaks and stains the white skin it glides across

Something rises within the pale softness and it glows a dull red
It appears abused, battered
Lines as if scratched emerge

The taste on my lips is familiar, something out of the wooden shaker on the table
Only it is tainted, bitter
Not only in taste, in feeling

A crime to my nose is what it is
Appearing red and blotchy
The sole reason not to weep

But the release
The pent up fire, ocean of feeling, canyon of emptiness
It is somehow repaired through a moment of complete weakness

Life from one tear to the next
Raging inside my stuffy head
Exits, finishes

Because my eyes are brightest when I cry



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