Synthesia *

26 4 10
                                    

A/N: Attached some atmospheric music that you could listen to while reading the poem.

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The plaintive song of the bells

Brings colour to the stained class

The only thing that brings me comfort

In the events about to pass:


The cake sounds like the laugh

Of a killer about to strike

The ribbons on the ceiling 

I smell, they are with poison spiked


The wedding crown smells like text

That has been cut-and-pasted

This whole hall, the whole hall

Reeks of thousand of dollars wasted


The hearts are old

The love is new

The cuts are borrowed

The pain is blue.


And black.

Like the an inertia prison

Like the rainbow that vanishes

Once you move the prism


And before 'she' 

and 'he' 

and 'we' 

come to pass

I shall tell you one last thing:


The rings feel like glass.


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