Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Dry Pulp

Marred by the expectations of the early trailer,
Picture that seemed so soft and free was not so appealing,
Yet when running to the hill to catch the glimpse of the sun,
You try so hard to squeeze every bit the hard earned fun,

Overpowering and similarly captivating the calling,
Run through to the maze by the that flawless upbringing,
No matter how strong the fragrance of the bite was,
It was covered in the dead beat of the heavy smile,

Uptight and just about to feel the way right,
Way to put forward in my senses was everytime a new fight,
Figurines and depictions of the thought of world justified,
It was not the finishing touch not so exemplified,

All about the presence and all about the being you,
Excitement and anger turning the red in the blue,
Coupled into the palette with many thoughts,
Strike the hammer before its too late to die in the drought.

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