The After-Dream

Art © Vector De Yukitama

The green beak pecks my morning window,

rising in me, in volumes.

I open, to a complete disappearance

taking shape slowly in front of me, into a complete destruction

left with scattered, dusted, rusted and drenched victims

staring at my luxury with their wide open red, pale yellow, drugged blue eyes

pleading my humanity and morality
to call their short stay beautiful for the one last time
and that survival is blooming,

and if I do, they will take my death to be relatively better
as hope is a betterment at any stage,

diluting their own, sharing the life long suffering and pain

called colors.


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