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Writer's pictureArcelia

Atrophied By Fate

Flesh

A myriad of feathers

It falls for certainty

Or from one aspect

Of contrast may be expressed

Once again

To preserve the only claw

Feathers to mount which possess

Fashion for many are designed

In disgrace, illiteracy, and greed

In a belief

The vein involves virtue

As declared an analogy

A carcass lays with aspiration

Of faith with better endings

Unbothered for show

But with no empathy for the dead

If one falls from skies becomes lifeless

As delicate as it can be

One endorses the presence

Of a last breath

To inhale the disbelief

What is meant to be

Protests coincidences

To be a myth

Only in sin we plead for mercy

Perhaps it is too late

To hear melodies

That the morning sings




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