Blue

Echoes, wails, tears, screams.

A painter’s canvas, a writer’s ink, a director’s camera and a woman’s reality.

If the machine is the factories’, the money is the bosses’, the land is the governments’;

What do I own? The wind, the sea, the breeze?

Dreams, faith, belief, trial.

A young man’s doubts, an adult man’s struggles, and an old man’s distrust.

If all a life is is a countdown to one’s death, & all the artistry, stage, props, a final curtain call;

What is an acceptance speech? A confession, a public orgasm, a lie?

Heartache, falls, failures, disease.

A song’s soul, a lover’s reality, a parent’s fear.

If the deeds of one’s life can be broadcasted on platforms that profit off one’s vanity;

What does that make one that gives in to it? A businessman, a whore or a person that cannot be alone for his fear of meeting self?

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