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lost in thoughts

Quiet Reflections


Fallen! Fallen! Incessant Repine!
Who apparels the beauty in perfect quietude
The cider tree once burned bright
It cinders- Sanity obliged the pressure of your contort
And your glow of burn harried
It snaps shut- Tepid, sense appraised you
Then ash disperse
Sundered by the wind of orient
For a part away has flown
This lift of heart; This broken serenity!
What glory is the create of a familiar unfamiliar;
That poetry should its folly perceive
Or the seethe for an elevate of rank?
Oku-Oha is the envy of crowd
Pomp your bareness cloaked
As the feline grace of the leopard's walk
Till night serpentines stealth across the looming way
Bloodied pandemonium hidden from unwary souls
Upholds the slaughter feast
Like day in brokered tremult beholds the conquering dark
Fester the victims!
Those benighted: Accord their last rite
Who knows what good should have remain
Yet we blitz with fallen clones and our hands ope still bound in chain



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