Know how the tide flows,
every second ebbing similarly–
death of spontaneity.
Washed up dilapidated,
mere carcass body shivering-
exhausted in the burden of existing.
Mundanities on the wind,
whispering eternal stagnation-
broken record world envelopes silence.
Staring until the glaze sets in,
eyes shutter in lifeless repose-
each blink bleeding colors out.
Grey Silence
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