Thursday, October 21, 2010

When you sit alone, in a room with only white walls,
all you have left is the music of the stars.
It's a melody that never fails.
When you are climbing a smooth wall with nothing
to hold on to,
you cry and fall infinitely ,
you realize you have no choice.
but to surrender to the dull, sterile perfection
of the music of the stars.
In perfect blackness your cries are not heard,
and your anguish does not intrude on the music of the stars.
When you die your soul rises out of the ocean of your tears,
floating in the perfect peace of the music of the stars.

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