Undying Grudge

It feels as though an autumm leaf
imprinted on the mind so deep
it left a scar,
visually indescriptive
or nowhere as near vivid.

It feels as though through times it came
and comes as far as skies are seas
it left a scar,
highly apprehensive
about the coins and the chamber.

It feels as thought through years
wasted with the combustion of crude
oil and tar,
only justice
can bring the trees and stones alive.

It feels as though some changes still
stilled, and more dead die and live
it left a scar,
unendingly pervasive
obliviously conscious of thy wicked thoughts.

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