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Let me go, like letting the ribbon slip through your fingers, your eyes watching the balloon dance in the breeze before disappearing into the clouds.
For now the winter bites
Breath stolen by the cold fingers
Of the nights frost
Hanging in the still air
We shall return to our motherland
Victoria is the name
Pressed onto cracked lips

Let the fire of saviour burn tonight
As we prepare
For thine enemy shall taste
The cold arrows
Peirce the breast of harlots
As we march

Bear skin warms our back
And norse songs pound inside souls
Of brave warriors
Beneath the silver moon

March march march
Until this land is free again
And we return
To the love of the
Summer angel
even the darkest minds can drip gold;
pink roses can bloom behind ****** chain link fences,
as leaves can stay orange as they float in puddles reflecting gray.

there’s always stars in the dark.
<3
 Oct 2024 David Bernard Scully
Av
There is freedom in isolation,
in being idle and invisible,
where one could sit in muteness,
swim widely in dusk and ask,
"Am I really here,
if no one is around to see?"
A different kind of suicide

There is pleasure in being a shadow,
in pretending you don't exist,
to avoid acting like you do

Solitude isn't a time for me
to let myself free
but rather a time to free myself
from who I am

Outside the confinement of company,
I am anyone and anything,
I am someone else, somewhere else
I am alive,
but I am no one
I am alone

a.r.
Winter sunrise on my last and longest day,

wrap me in a winding sheet of flaming orange

take the reds and pinks from midnight blue to make my shroud

let me rest in heaven fire

drown my tired soul in colour

drinking the final carnival

warmth for my bones,

a funeral of skies and wonders
Saying goodbye to a good man,
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