Rising up

Days wander off, fugitive landscapes along trails of dreams and thoughts.
Clogged to sweat and muck a soul shatters in fragments with no end and bound,
each shard carves a mark.
from each mark wells a pool of blood,
in each pool effuse the sun's glow,
the soul's ointment that chastise the barren livid squalor,
we call life,
to an enterprise of character and a blade of contumacy.

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