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Mercy Beacoup Jul 2012
Under the haven of the night,

my muse awakens and takes flight.

She refers to the bent pages of my sorrow

to guide me to the light and ease my tomorrow.

But in the dusty corners, ravenous demons congregate

in hopes that my dreams they can infiltrate,

but they rapidly vanish from the vicinity

when my muse infuses my mind with pure divinity.

— The End —