Vacant minds and hearts
that don’t beat
No sounds bouncing off
the walls with viridescent sage
Only the sound of
silence and its jealousy that echoes.
I reminisce my screams
that used to echo
Back in time, when I was
always beaten
For singing out loud
while burning sages
The smell lingers, of
sage
But not of my euphonious squeals
that used to echo
Whenever I was online
against the same losers that I always beat.
No echo, because with
my rage, came the burning of sage after I have finally beaten them to death.
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