walls of thoughts are crumbling

Food for the famine;
an ancient decay.
since my birth I was starved
I've grown weary everyday.

Buried under years of sand
sharp stings from rapid winds.
the desert sun kills all life,
with each itch, births new sins.

Raging on this ancient decay;
buckets of water to simmer the rot.
this stress; a war; an endless loop,
a curse to whomever opens this 
thought.

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