Small but honest

Terrified of being left, But now I'm leaving you God, I miss you already Will you still visit? Don't leave Please.

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Decay

Withering colors, in carbonated yellows Rusted green and foaming white, Bubbling leftovers of humanistic pursuit. Rotten corpses of artistic benevolence lining the streets. The scrunched up flesh of unfinished stories, Discarded as fear that their imperfect toxicity might scar a pure white page, Just a bag of waste. Wasted potential Wasted time Waste