Separated Without Soul

ugly I wouldn’t say exactlystorm
black darkly somewhat
shadows
falling
smiling

detached I wouldn’t say exactly
broken hurt maybe
searching
lonely
thinking

the grocer stands within the rain
calling for cucumbers and watermelons
while gold and red flashes
stirring
nervous
overlooked

the empire may be lost
where evil swallows raw breezes
leaving a looming apocalypse
it hurts
wounded
indignant

Yet the storm is beginning
for she is seething and flaring
trying to feed her soul
not lonely
in no pain
waiting

Separated Without Soul

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