Explosive culprit like a nuclear holocaust.
it was written in the stars.
Scouring the universe,
it scratches and scrapes.
No genuine or sincere,
Nightmares with a lack of sense,
repentance, with no recompense.
The absence of sense, or conscience.
Potential like a bird in a cage,
bear witness as it takes centre stage.
The moments beckons,
as i become,
numb to the cause and the pain.
waiting for the echoes as they grow,
It was too late,
finite grew restless.
in the millionth and nth,
trying to tie myself back in.
Although life was made to win,
time was made to transcend, beyond and beyond.
Missed yet i sense them lingering,
on the outskirts,
hoping for more wins.
The stars are nought without life’s admiration,
thus i sit in awe,
hoping am correct in my stance,
Some what trendsetting,
as i seep with misery in my nucleus;
I can take it.
The journey continues,
bear no issue.
Hoping to be privy to the more convoluted moments.
Perhaps i can aid to let the light in.
And then some.
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