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Mar 2016
It is as though the fire wears
Them,
     A slow burning sacrifice between
Ecstatic generations,
    A sort of martyrdom comes in the
Line of each death,
    The endlessly bloodstained embers
Burnt beneath the tears
   Of those left in the wounds of time.
Alas,
    Every seedling is a grain of energy
In the marrow of the earth,
    So alone with so many
Spilling themselves like fountains
In an anonymous well.
     The question remains
As their days become fewer
Like the few Winter's leaves.
        They enter one another
By the eyes,
They speak in tongues of season
      And yet come upon a last dawn
Seemingly with great depths
Of abyss in a solemn heart.
        The dreams that survive them
Are children lost in a mist,
    Stuck in a whirlwind
Surrounded by Dust.
Children of the Dust
The Dedpoet
Written by
The Dedpoet  38/M/San Anto, Tejas
(38/M/San Anto, Tejas)   
220
     RK, Pixievic, ---, ---, Keith Wilson and 1 other
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