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Sculpted out of ether/ Painted on the sea/ The purest form of life/ Is how the world sees me

Sunday, April 4, 2010

The Wall

Liquid iron trickled down her neck
Leaving a scar of smoky red
But neither blood nor her tears
Could drown the ecstasy of shared pain
He had likely suffered once
The wall collapsed in no time
Heat was not needed to melt it down
The snug feeling of togetherness helped
To let her self-imprisoned soul
Soar up to his sky
But hands felt something cold again
The rusted iron wall stood tall
Warmth replaced by blinding rays
The thud assured the soul's fall
Wake up little soul, wake up
It was just a dream
You are still alive and free
To move within your walled territory

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