I bleed onto a page for you
Where diction has lost all its meaning,
And secrets fall from lips
Like dying petals in a forgotten garden.

Believing language, we speak in tongues
Deceiving ourselves,
My heart whispers in forms that
Twenty years of reason and cognition
Have rendered useless.

If only you could hear what I have seen
For aeons before this zero.

To see our system as a void,
To believe ourselves immune.
To never feel our wings melting.
We are all spirits trapped and dying.
Trapped and dying.

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