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Colors Of Spring

I feel like I can't draw
this sun through the eye of a needle.

This expanding merry-go-round of farce
is a river that won't let go
and draws us near with sighs of rapture
and pain.

We draw this sword to sever our created garden,
our flowers of mind and the spleens ideal.

When grey bleeds through and numbs the limbs
and red calls to our shaken pets
our desires draw cages and lock the doors

My steps take all I have now
my thoughts are of gel and liquid
I can't pull through
I can't pull through

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