Written on those walls,

Another piece of sadness

Filled in their eyes,

Those tears                        

That are ruthless and         

This abstract is a thyme.


Never considered

a broken glass join the cracks,             

to pierce these swollen lesions

and break their heart apart

and into the forest, lost  forever                          

an prophecy has been written                                   

 a destiny has to be found and now

they have become a fallen angel

with wings that will never fade by time.


Until those pieces are found

the angel can never find bliss

for their psyche and

will remain the ruthless

and be fallen

till ages of blissful thoughts.


Abrupt it does sound

unclear it can be but        

the writing on those walls     

 will never perish unless

those sporadic pieces

shall be found and

restore the tear of

that ruthless heart.


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