Untitled
The burden of life
Is what this beating heart holds.
The loser wins the battle
That ruins the image
Of the delicate matter that was place in their hands.
One can battle over all the expectations of the other
And finally win the final breath.
Hearing the clashing of the swords
All is about to crumble.
The season is living
But into a great darkness.
The comfort of a stranger
Comes from this plague.
As the bell rings
Into the new hour
The water will run dry.
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