Dark Poems

Roses are red, and so is blood. . .

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21. 21.

 

Blank world, blank walls.

No color or sound.

Trapped in an empty world,

I am bound.

Nothing here or there

Or all around.

The sense of zero, of nothing,

Just seems to surround.

I try to walk but there is no floor,

No ground.

I look this way and that,

But there is nothing to be found.

Why?

Because I am stuck.

In a world.

Of nothing.

 

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