sweet smell of faded beauty
drowns welling tears in colored order
far flung thoughts in white and grey
pursues dried leaves felled by the sway

in irony I rest my soul
to a serene field of unbelieving
in wake of labored stares and sighs
and fruitful ends of living

by the by, they all grow weary
grow unseeing, prickly and absurd
for the bane of existence is what they most treasure
abhorring gifts that bring them measure

far from freedom that gives thee grace
consoles those who long for solace
with contrived strength and tearful goodbye
holding somber whispers as they softly cry


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