On dawns like this
We tend to banish the tiredness of questioning
Literally missing the turning point
And decide
to let down its perennial yet fruitless vitality
at sunset
On a willfully-deserted road.
Another shower of silent metaphors to drive off,
Leaving ground for paradoxical debt -
the ultimate expression of regret
Set out to capture the hidden answers
All their impulses and subtle hints
which surpass a true legacy,
and generates a vision of doubt
brought forward like a self- incriminating alibi,
put behind like an empty fantasy crime,
a vague contrast
between absolute flooding and apocalyptic drought.
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