Ripped My Only Veil In The Truth Of Rainfall

Under this veil of anonymous curtain,

Gone rogue with my destiny to the mountains,

I cried a hopeful bunch of nuts and crowds, 

My only repertoire blazed in agony, 

Met with the ambivalent ugliness of an epiphany, 

Might just make this another sentential congruent.

 

In my own subconscious unconscious, 

I made this mess of a labyrinth, 

What maze to be encountered, 

Another children’s fairy tail to conveyed,

Like a desert’s sand disappearing in time,

Accompanied with no space but the vacuum of a non-existent race. 

 

A lit candle of misunderstood conceptualizations, 

In birth of these realizations,

Could make one more or two days, 

Meaningless yet true in one phase. 

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This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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