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 Oct 2016
Polar
Walking in the midnight garden of lost hopes and dreams

I inhale the scents of not all it seems

It's here the Dedpoet speaks to me

He tells me things I didn't know

As away I go

further into the realm of enchanted dreams

Here, past, present, future, hold no sway.

Blindly I place one step in front of the other

Pathways are a long time gone.

All the while I hear his voice

Omnipresent, pure, urging me forward

Breath holds in my chest

Unwilling to escape,

Again I hear that voice

Leading me to clarity

Where at last I breathe

Rejoice

— The End —