Lyon Erkst

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Aborted Blooms

A strange silhouette looms over a budding seed,
Its caressing hand pressing downward
Is a confusion of acid smoke.
The small stem writhes within the soil as
Ethereal mist gathers above.

Yet within a lapse of inattention, the stem propels through.
A unique flower is born in the garden of aborted blooms.

Twisted creature, her stem is rotten.
Yet within her scarlet petals lies the warmth of sparking embers.

Stand and watch!
As the beauty folds within
And the fruit of torment arises.
Stand and watch!
Powerless again, amidst another fleeting eternity.

Bitter crying fruit
Which can be tasted by sight.
Its skin is laced with blue sorrow
The longing of a lost mind;
Its skin is laced with crimson pain
The wailing of a frostbit skin;
Its skin is laced with black despair
A paradox, at the center of the heart.

And as the fruit of torment falls,
Darkness becomes darker and
Oceans swell deeper and
Writ letters dance in a frenzy

The strange silhouette stares in heavy silence
Its rusted flesh paralyzed
Its knees creak as they fall.
Crestfallen, it looks to the sky
And imagines
A blazing sun.
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