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Reality by Kerstan Batchelor



Reality may be a poetic fusion of illusions and daydreams, yet it feels the same as bittersweet betrayals, saturated in realms of pain. There’s no antidote without a verse woven in vain, feeding fire of life with threads of fate hanging on ornaments of heaven's gate.

Excluded from a cautionary tale that lacks the essence of an empath. Oblivious to wicked winds of flames burning every truth written in momentary stillness. But the world that I love spins me in sheer shades of doubt, shoving my needs to a chained chamber of saints and sinners that’s lost in an already designed game.

I question in prose of mutilated rhymes, will I ever heal in the hell that shattered my will to flee from senseless hallucinations? For the darkness bought and sold my courage for boundless blossoms of night. I’m throned in thorns painted with psychedelic masquerades and mind bending disguises.

When battles fought of souls leading unseen wars, does the silence feel the weight of its wings? Or are our bodies confined feathers paid for rose diamond dreams, still surviving through stolen heartbeats of damned humanity? Unable to let go and attain an Eden with no history of scandalous sagas, I am in search of starry nights that will never dim their flickering flames upon lost souls, as only in darkness can you see the light that consoles aching hearts in search of clustered constellations cloaked in silent desires and love beyond gold spun galaxies.

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