33. blank slate

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there is not as much as there was before
in your mind of a thousand eyes.
a shy, tender whisper does not
flow in the wind like a roar from the clouds
up in the hierarchy of the heavens,
yet the whisper bottles itself in that person,
weakly standing still and standing close
to what a soul they conjure in their persona.
calloused hands stained with raspberry grief,
the mourning crows surround a lost soul
trapped in a rose peppered with sweet thorns,
there's nowhere else to go.
the whisper carries a melody of a forgotten tune,
prominent amongst the air of a night breeze,
stealthily slithering like a colored viper
and constricting like a boa combined
as it suffocates in the foe's unreadable mind
invented by pines and needles of suppressed tears.
once your breath dies out into the earth
in the middle of living forest, canopy thick enough
for the stars of a billion years to dim
to the size of a small, dull rusted diamond,
you will see the life of another's peace
and the life of the one that has suffered.

-valkyrie

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it's been months since i haven't written any poems and i feel so bad for letting this important poem book fade away from my mind ;(. but anyways i'll spam and write more to try to make it up for it :p

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