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Bleeding Ink
In a realm where materialism reigns,
Lost souls wander, bearing heavy chains,
A sadness lingers, a profound despair,
For love and art, few hearts seem to care.

Amidst the frenzy, where pursuits collide,
A renaissance dreams, with hope as its guide,
But shadows deepen, casting doubt and gloom,
As indifference smothers every creative bloom.

Oh, how tragic it is, this melancholy tale,
When whispers of beauty fail to prevail,
Though we strive to revive the love within,
The world remains apathetic, lost in its own din.

In pursuit of fortunes and wealth's allure,
Humanity drifts, distant and obscure,
And while we yearn to awaken their souls,
They remain entangled in materialistic goals.

For every stroke of art, every tender rhyme,
Seems futile, unnoticed, lost in time,
Aching hearts mourn, for the world can't perceive,
The transformative power they so desperately need.

Yet still, we carry the flame in our hearts,
Defying the odds, embracing...