My dreams are in shades of grey
and the occasional crimson flash
and the occasional crimson flash
of bloody petals falling to the ground.
When in wakefulness I’m offered a trinket
I brace myself
I brace myself
for the imminent highway robbery
that’ll nick the ground beneath my
feet
and crush dewy hope into the mire
of life’s elegantly crafted
cruelty.
Some amazing poetry sir. Wow!
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