Fading Fate
No language they speak, no senses
Trailing behind the trauma they wipe all the traces
The passionate flame they once burnt
Is now replenished with stale hurt
In the rhythmic rhythm of the craved waft
They yearn to endorse to this fading fate
Their endless embers astonishingly ablaze
Shooting fellow hearts they caste a crimson lace
Which connects their mirrored fingers
And witnesses their synchronised falter.
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