ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

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When the sun came up, on the 25th of October, the day had just begun.

But the night of the 24th, a nightmare ended. Concluded, and broke into glass pieces. Of which were now scattered around like pebbles in the dirt.

"When?"

When you may ask.

"When did everything change?"

To that, I say, "That day. This and everyday afterward. That day, when reality shifted."

But now, what actually happened? Truth knows not. Just that the midnight sky lightened, and all was forgot.

Forlorn and departed, tears ran dry and a heart no longer ignited.

Tough as soil and sorrowful, may the earth be, but day gone and beautiful are open.

Soft but undistinguished may black eyes stare ahead. For the petals were plucked, and we thought everyone was dead.

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