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Image for the poem "-273.15."

"-273.15."

This life
This knife
This hatred
This strife

This atmosphere that's
become oppressive with malice
And the 1,000,000 ways
that I desire silence

Tipping the balance
Slowly degrading into an abyss
where detrimental deeds have
become my normality against me

Tipping the balance
Nothing is sure once the pressure
cooker has reached 1,000,000
degrees

Because my hearts reached -273.15
A disturbingly numbing place to be
Require the heat of Passion and
its rapture that can thaw me from this
chasm that confines me

Desire Solace to cause the iced over
plasma to flow once again into my
internal extremities
Without it I think that a frozen tomb is
my destiny

Tipping the balance
Slowly degrading into an abyss
where detrimental deeds have
become my normality against me

Tipping the balance
Nothing is sure once the pressure
cooker has reached 1,000,000
degrees

Like everything in the world, I need
the Sol to once again bring me...

Life-sustaining heat to make me be

Without it, I'll not be
Written by hungrypan74 (Dantalyon)
Published
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