Newo Neow

Listening at night,

For whispers of your love’s call,

Maybe one day soon.

This longing knows no end,

Drizzling makes for a drowning,

Emotions wash clean the senses,

And then comes sickening trances,

Where’s the wild imagination when needed,

Could grey give room for colours,

A pride of animals and marches,

Confusion, rebellion, and anarchy,

No closets or window panes to come out,

From acoustic mourning and sobbing,

Surety recedes in the conformities,

So just accept and carry on…

Deeper into the sorrow,

There’s always tomorrow,

To solve another horror,

Disgraced and ashamed all alone.

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