Red blue yellow pink,
Not as bright as grey.
Bloom of the sun flower,
Wish that only day dwellers lurked.
“MOTHER”, her irritating screech,
Echoes amidst the five enduringly burnt walls,
Ah you imbecile brute,
“SHUT”... *seeks to hear this the least,
Only to her vain that she seeks no answer.
Oh! My sweet scented bouncy bed,
Brittled rusted bench of iron,
Deleteriously ladled with black roses,
Dipped in strawberry scent.
Struggles her every breath,
Unknotting her eyebrows.
Every scissure felt but numbness,
Overwhelmed with agony pulled,
Sore eyes mixture of hope and famine,
Whilst hope drowns in delirious bay,
Famine gains conscious to look upon an eclipse.
She runs hither,
Bumps her head into a wall,
Rebounded into another,
Scratches her leg against a viciously shiny sharp edge.
On her legs again,
Tracing the obvious.
Willows of enduring fresh dream,
Leaps of unmeasured glory,
Touch of dew droplets,
Smell of crisp bright green leaves,
Acers of thick virgin bumps of black clouds,
Yet filled with utopia of chilled rain.
She crouched herself in a dark corner,
Lost in her despair.
Only her mind could see the wonder,
Yet not seem to atop it with cream.
Only moments later did she feel the heat of brightness,
Her being was temporary,
She had passed on,
Her dismay had been answered,
Darkness had only one shot of truth,
She was left beyond,
She was blind,
She was dead.
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