No more poetic clone wars 

Stories of love lost 

Dead and forgotten 

Undertakers attempting in futility 

To revive the dead 

Frankstein’s monster 

An abomination that should’ve never been given thought 

Much less life. 

No more poetic sandstorms 

Of life lived 

The only remnants 

The dunes of memories 

That depresses even the reader. 

It’s not enough 

To exist 

Barely living 

Crawling into holes and crevices 

Living like a scavenger off the land

The next meal… the only highlight! 

No more sad love songs 

Gazing at stars 

Wishing that time travel was possible 

And that you knew the meaning to life. 

What you wouldn’t kill to reach nirvana. 

Was it real? 

This mythical place of peace and contentment 

Where nothing matters because your so over the bullshit.

No more poetic thunderstorms, hurricanes, 

Natural disasters of any kind 

Just a peace that passeth 



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