Sever the soul
There is always a truth in between the lines,
Traded in for a minute of respite,
In a chaotic world of synchronized happenstance
In our neglect of that which is true,
We’ve become masters of pretense,
Blurring the lines in our moment of repose
And what is left is undeniably infectious,
A Severing of the soul and all that we are
Till Kingdom come
The onset of passion dictates
A veritable explosion of emotions
For those who found meaning
In companionship and self
Joyously floating up into the clouds
Awaiting a séance of those who came before
In reveries and rituals
Till kingdom come
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