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The Wilted

The edges have withered—
blackened—under the pressure
of a world set out to wilt
even the reddest of roses.
Standing over dirt graves
Of the ones with stained flesh;
We are sick with a melancholy fever
that never seems to fade.
The wilted hangs,
tired
Under red rimmed eyes
Under sleepless pits
In the dead of the night
Where the shadows hide.
We are the wilted.

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Welcome to the world

#DepressedRoses #Sad #Society #Wilted #World

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