These eyes have glimpsed many whimpers,
Hollow when they stare in a mirror,
Bursting of ache and wails,
Cleansed pure owing to this disdain.
An ocean of salt they hide,
That drenches like barrage,
Hurling the angst out the wrecked core,
In the gloomy starlit glistening night.
Slivers of shattered delusions,
Possibilities that plummet cascading,
Absent from an exultant riposte,
A soul that drifts secluded in anguish now.
How many slashes it’ll grieve?
How many such fruitless fantasies?
How many slaughters of thy core?
How many aeons of agony to endure?
A sickly perishing heart,
Waiting to be restored,
When will the time come?
An epoch to live serene at last.
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