Lost

They stood there at the God Tree, listening to all the creatures in the world. They wished to be renewed, in the hope of reliving their lives, reliving their lies, refusing the cries, of loved ones and the lost guns of old tongues. The wished for one last run, through the old cities of rusted lungs and broken sons. We live and die over and over again in the memories of tomorrow. We love and cry over things that are irreversible, run to the sky when we are irredeemable. Turn to one another and look inside, yourselves, for answers that can only delve, in the blue darkness of pretty eyes, and solemn cries….for help, as we die, and meld….into why.

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