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Hear the Organs Play
This hole is endless, if you fall through, the universe will not be able to comprehend what had happened.
Your existence will be erased and scattered, into pure stardust, coating the sky with your likeness.
Your heart will sink like a ship without an anchor to keep it steady
The blood pumped by each contraction of the muscle,
Will dance, becoming playful rose petals,
In red ball gowns, cascading in the water, welcoming the beasts below,
Inviting the mermaids to seduce your spirit, forcing you to hold onto what little you have left.
Your skin will bound to every great work of literary art,
With a lock made of your bones, keeping your secrets in running blue ink.
That is when your ears will hear their last sound,
The thumping and pounding of a thousand doors that have shut in your face,
With the ashes of a thousand other dead souls,
Playing a dark looming sound of despair,
And fire crackling over the lava pits of anger you have stored deep inside your brain,
That is where your sense of touch will live,
Consuming all the fear and remorse you've had,
Keeping your jealousy company,
Because even that will not be alone,
The marriage between your sense of being and balance,
Will honeymoon with your sense of passion,
The snow will flurry sending a warm shiver to where your spine resides.
Calming your spirit as if it were a warm cup of cocoa
Running down the back of your throat.
Letting you know that there is hope.
That in the end, even if you do not know,
You are scattered into a black hole,
Your traits become meteors,
And eventually we are all comets,
Creating new souls.
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