Dry eyes and a cold heart seem to be the staple of today
and yesterday
and the day before.
Yet tomorow is another maybe
where hope stems from a moistness in my nostrils...
it's just a runny nose from a forgotten cold
which even that, had been left over from a time when I was alive.
Dry heart and cold eyes, withered skin of a past soul
of yesteryears
and dreams before
There are no more tomorrows to hope
or pains to grieve, nor cuts to heal...
just the wetness of earth surrounding a body cold
that was laid to waste without a story to be told...
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