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A Ghostly Show

 

Empty of its audience, red, plush velvet seats;

Sorrowful, in mourning.

No more echoes of applause,

the opening of a grandeur curtain,

Just a ghostly appearance,

Breathing in the past.

Dusty stage lights,

Cobwebbed orchestra,

Costumes bleeding out their vibrany; silently decaying.

What do you call a stage

without a captivating drama?

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Big White Room

Stepped outside the Big White Room

Closed the door behind me

Needing to see where I belong,

Trying to feel familiarity.

 

Writer’s block is brutal

-A stab in the back from loyalty.

Needless to say I lost myself

Trampled by a monotonous society.

 

I sigh--

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GENERALLIFEwriter's block

Ignorant to society

Our ignorance makes colour just an illusion

We latch onto black and white for vision

Purifying our naivety, protecting our fears

Whether it be blood, sweat, or tears; no trace can be found

Recognition is the key to unearth beyond our judgemental lines.

We deny ourselves the truth, yet believe in immortality.

 

Observing a bag soar through the wind

Can you feel its freedom?

...

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