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Eyeing things unnoticed by others, music seeps from the soul into the world of beauty and ecstasy. But sadness plunges into the lungs of creativity and chokes. An asphyxiation of existence long lost from a body that never was beautiful enough to function or to breathe. The breath of lightning in the skies cannot suffice the anger of the eyes who helplessly contemplate the beauty of creation. Their wrath burns the retina and blinds ambition leaving gouged wells in a face too tempted and weak and soulless. The cry of thunder shaking the heavens cannot suffice the humiliation of the ears who hopelessly embrace the sensation of sound. Their humiliation tears down their ear drum and deafens life leaving sodden goblets in a head too broken and old and dead. The rains flood all homes destroying things and faces and heads. The rains wash the misery of races unappreciative and graces unappreciated. The sun does not come out. It frees its self and light from dedication and routine giving darkness to a world deserving of black trees and cats. The moon dies. The lights go out. The gods awaken to the rebellion of creatures they once thought.

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