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Boredom.

What cold comfort it gave, with a sickening stroke on the back

What burning flames it spat, with happiness set ablaze

What darkened light it shone, with my feet crashing into my furniture

What beautiful leaves it dried, as they laid down peacefully to rest

What echoing emptiness it exuded, with a vessel clashing to the ground

What choky air it let out, with my nostril clogging with dust

What sleep it stole, with the heart awake and my eyes peering into the ceiling above me

What shades of black it painted, with my canvas devoid of beauty

What emptiness it presented, with my mind searching through my heart 

What sickness it cast, with my kidneys bleeding and my skin peeling

What bitter pills it dropped, that my throat was forced to accept them

What poisonous embrace it gave, with my hands helpless

What blow it let land, with a feeble shield at it’s mercy

And what force it displayed, driving my itchy fingers to the paper.

NB: From Now on, I would go by the name RubyRed instead of my real name. This piece you just finished digesting was written by RubyRed.

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7 thoughts on “Boredom.

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