Sodden cheeks,
swollen lips
Eyes drowned in
make-believe grief
Hands trembling,
unsure grip
Wobbly knees,
seeking solace each step
Clouds, rainbows
Skies and horizons plenty
Waves riding the seas
quiet, unhurried
Climes, seasons
and blooms eager
Drained of colours, vigour or
change, otherwise assured
Not an iota of the world
or its beauty eclectic
has changed or
deprived itself
Only my refusing to see
the world for what it is
with days drowned
in made-up melancholy
and heart heavied by
the weight of my
pursuit adamantine
to die before dying
honed over years of non-living,
being a nonbeing
as the world continues unchanged
as beautiful as it will always be
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