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Literature Text
Bleeding to Life
My presence feels like a lonely battle between two shades of gray who have been abandoned by their colorful armies and don't feel like fighting anymore so they've decided to throw out a light-gray-and-dark-gray checkered blanket on the magnificently absent plain and have a picnic of stale fruit and dry hardtack.
When their armies returned, they both were slaughtered by their own armies and lay complacently bleeding to death, draining color together on their dull blanket.
Synapse
The synapses of my brain are like billions of animations of the Sahara Desert.
The brain is a mysterious being.
My presence feels like a lonely battle between two shades of gray who have been abandoned by their colorful armies and don't feel like fighting anymore so they've decided to throw out a light-gray-and-dark-gray checkered blanket on the magnificently absent plain and have a picnic of stale fruit and dry hardtack.
When their armies returned, they both were slaughtered by their own armies and lay complacently bleeding to death, draining color together on their dull blanket.
Synapse
The synapses of my brain are like billions of animations of the Sahara Desert.
The brain is a mysterious being.
These are two prose i wrote on one piece of paper. they are about how i felt that day. it was yesterday. a full rotation of the earth ago. geez, seems like years.
© 2005 - 2024 steal-sheep
Comments6
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your writing is improving with each day, i love you brother