Real Life or Fantasy?

March 22, 2018
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The air is hot and heavy and suffocating and grave
Monotone colors devour the world in patches
Like a child scribbling on withered, yellow paper with broken crayons
A kitchen, once filled with hope, smells of rot and broken dreams
Colors condense and fade fast as the window of opportunity passes
Leaving the hurt and hopeless to flounder
Swimming in the darkness of their souls
Left in a society designed to slowly crush them
While fat pigs sit on piles of riches
Wealth gained through less than minimal effort
Invent a light and you’ll be swallowed for trying to improve
Follow the masses for your own good
Less you be shot down to the ground and left
And fed to the dying Earth

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