Nothing here is certain
Nothing you touch is real
Across the wall you think you smell the other side
You sense a turning of the tide
Outside
She is walking on the glass
Rabeya
Her lips are full and plush
She croons
A torrid tune of pain
She leaves a crimson trail
What does she gain
Smell of myrrh all around
Smeared vision immaculate sounds
All the senses are tired of the show
Is it time to let go
Grey smoke
Coils up from forest fire
Rabeya
She is a damn good liar
She said
That fire sears her skin
And yet she lithely walks within
A house of cards turned to dust
Old emotions gather rust
Haunted joints and mortal remains
Die for freedom, breaking chains
Dreamagine
Rabeya is gone
She's got
No one left to mourn
Worldly ties
Were never meant for her
She was never close never too far
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