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Your Last Day on EarthA summer rain is always like this; a light drizzle accompanied by an enchanting tune due to the cold drops hitting the surface of the world, not to forget the addicting smell of wet grass and rain-soaked earth filling the air.
A transparent vinyl umbrella he held lightly on his hand, but to open it he can't find the need to; to block the waterway to his face would break the mood induced around him, anyway. He bared his face forward to the ever changing skies. Cloudy and gray as it is now, he felt inside him a love for it doesn't change even a tiny bit.
Someone said, when you see the vast blue skies, you can always feel the urge for an adventure.
He ran a long run towards a path near a fountain inside the park, a breathtaking one to empty his now wrinkled lungs in a few minutes. He threw himself with his last ounce of strength to the soft, grassy ground, resulting in his clothes to be dirty all over. He rolled his body to positions his eyes to face a pale facade of the scenery of
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More