Monochrome picture

Words are leaking from my eyes,

I can feel the cold stream on my face.

Pull the trigger on your camera

And kill the second of my time, at least now.

Limbs are getting colder, am I dying?

Slowly turning into a monochrome picture

On the wall, I still struggle to understand the limits

Of my own confusion.

I can’t feel the colors anymore,

Voices are more distant,

And the blades of your sight are blurring the image.

Don’t fold the picture,

Put me in the scrapbook I made a while ago,

And leave it on my desk, where it has always been.

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