When the hurt that you have inside
Can’t ooze out of the wound anymore
Do you start to go bad inside
Inside the rose-pink mist
When the wound has healed but the hurt persists
With a life of its own
Where does healing come from?
From the rose-pink mist?
When the mountain stream
Becomes a magma stream
Flowing over your kidneys
In the deep rose-pink mist
When the love inside you
Is sealed over by the darkness
Do you fade like this?
Like unpicked fruit in late autumns
Rose pink mist
Laughing to your yourself
Trying to keep your madness to yourself
In a rose-pink mist
Do you find that even stepping out of the door?
You become someone else
In a rose pink mist
The aura of the rose-pink mist
Is it the happiness before death?
Is it the colour of life’s fading sun?
A flash of final hope
The gift unopened by those you loved
Reminds me of “a cut made with (hate, anger, etc) will not close” because of the fast heart rate keeps pumping blood out.
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Thank you, I’ve never heard of that saying before
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