Cold dust in her face
The autumn leaves swirled listlessly
With the desolation she felt
Life felt so empty,
no meaning to it all
a cruel twisted fate
slaved to an arid desert land
The seasons driven by passions
Like bright eclipsing stars
Technicolor dreams
on the wasteland dark
Sometimes, it all seems so pointless, the existence of humanity, our clinging to daily routines, desires, our passions
A sudden loss or going away of strong emotions creates a void that scars the soul, until another illusion comes along, of joy. Every single illusion is stronger, and more destructive...
