Steam by Ria J. Leon
What stays but bruised remains
of flesh and blood and bone,
a storm, too violent for thought
and gruesome and grim as
dying alive, stalks me.
My vessel it takes, and haunts me,
fade from me, take this from me,
no time could help or wound to heal,
but as it drain my life and mind
My soul, always bright, dulls
and glimpsed so fleeting,
i cant be sure of it or sanity,
like fall from summer and winter from fall,
it wasn't real, how can memory be real?
This thirst, this thirst,
I cannot strive nor fair
the world if thirst is wrong
dream for me, my mind has gone,
The swirling colors and feeling forgotten
have left a mark upon my soul,
no price to pay, no song, no hope nor dream
just a fire turned to steam.

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