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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Emotional >> ID #321624 |
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By fallen night the stars take place.
The fire leaps high from stone to stone and silver eyes in a silver face look down on ice and dust and bone. The touch one finds in darkest black. The grim gray found in shaded rows, but second thoughts are known not back to those whom only malice knows. Many defy this lingering thing and often they berate the ethereal few who dare to dream, ‘till living ground grows cold with hate.
© Copyright 2002 Sceryn (UN: sceryn at Writing.Com).
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