The Dried Splotch of Blood
In a time where all are happy
I hide in an alley
for I'm the last memory of pain
I dream of sadness and suffering returning
for I hate the cheeriness in the air.
I hear giggles and cheering
instead are screams and cries
and I wear a layer of dust
which does me the favor of closing me out
closing me out from the happiness
and so I wait
and wait
until I realize that I feel sorrow
and if I feel sorrow then maybe I'm not alone
maybe someone else in this great big world
feels sorrow
and I no longer wait
and I let myself disintegrate.
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