Discretion

I smile so I don’t
have to speak again,
quietly dead
from the pressure.
Feeling listless, still
won’t leave this.
Instead I
make a wish,
exhale my grief,
and intoxicate the gods
with my existence.
Follow truth
and remember,
ever and again
beauty may be
nothing more than
a stained
glass window:
pretty to look at,
empty within.

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