Kittens have no souls.

Sunshine’s lost in wells.

It bothers me,

That depth is all misery.

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Complexity is blue,

Don’t breathe. Take a plunge.

Your heart is the well. Dip in the pen.

Art is made with lines in the skin.

But now I lie here bleeding, cold, and broken,

Doesn’t that sun look so nice?

Much like a purr soft-spoken.

Maybe it is all contrast?