Burnout

She mourns the core
of things unseen;
the crowd stands aside
so that the Soul can weep
silent tears that refuse to abate
with either care or calmness

So She walks the Burning Plains
lost in her building frustration,
where the ridges of creative harvest
are scorched by the heat of Rage

The Stars call to Her;
She pays them no heed,
convinced that Burnout
is inevitable

But their mischievousness giggles
tell Her that Fate has other plans...

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