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Among the hopeless I find myself alive
I live on, despite myself.

Never wanted to be the shade I am.

Colourless, reminding myself,
a union of kin, of kings.

Eternally tomorrow,
the days that never come.

Driven by beating sun,
the sculpted clouds.

I walk the salt covered roads,
arid and parched

skin stretched like vellum.

Acrid, the scent on the inhospitable air
Indian ink and ammonia

Dear companion,
the ghostly light.

I never find the way,
the long way away-

away from these hopeless days.
I'm trying to write again, I miss writing.
:iconrider-on-the-storm:
rider-on-the-storm Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2013  Student General Artist
i agree with the previous comment, this was great, touching really. india ink and ammonia are familiar smells to me
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:iconahollowvoice:
ahollowvoice Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2013
Excellent. I miss reading your writing.
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:iconcaptainozz:
CaptainOzz Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2013
You've plenty to catch up on. Sadly I'm rarely here these days, so we'll miss each other. 
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