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May 2016
All were silent as corpses as they laid
next to the campfire, listening to every
ill spoken word. Now silence has graced
this dimness of syllables that fed the fire.

There was a wishing well, others sent
for ill fortune had granted there lives.

"Wishing well please hear my plea,
"I was told you could solve issues for me,

Moments past and not a motion or spoken
word did seep from its depths.

"I thought this was a stupid idea, *******
belief that a well could solve problems for me

Then as footsteps echoed away, and repetition
was vaguely heard till sound birthed forth.

Feed me that which I desire, for metal has no
value where wishes are conceived and birthed.

"Tell me what you need, And whispers were
held upon there thoughts, and no other was
to no as a wishing well collects on everyone.

"So our story is like a circle but one not get finished
but nearly complete in worth,

Around the fire not a word was uttered, breath
was silent from one to another nothing expelled.
all were listening to his expiration of this stories
telling now eagerly undoing with each word.

Seeds were sewn for a wishes worth to come true,
Stories have endings of dreams and truth. but this
isn't one of those endings this is a certainty.
A story much have a start, pause and an ending unfold.

"Now all you have heard my tale, you were good
listeners as the dead speak no words. I take a token
from each of you,

"The eye is a token of the soul, and it needed ten
tokens of worth,

So as the fire lost is worth and syllables were replaced
by ten bodies now in rigor motis. All wept tears of
deaths embrace, as ocular openings feed upon the well.

"I give gifts, keys to ten souls, each of colour fresh not cold,
"Hear my plea of a wish I want in truth,

"Your contribution has been upheld, let a spoken word
unfold, be it riches or youth,

"One wish is yours now speak but heed my words, once
uttered the deal is sealed souls sealed in word,

"I want you to crumble to seal others ill fate,

"Those that were killed had suffered before
due to your needing of donations of souls
needed effect,

Crumbling fortunes to a gate of souls that
lingered at the bottom of a well. For all who
had perished had done so as retribution
for others lost to this curse. All who's eyes had
been taken and found no eternal rest.

He sat around the campfire and all was muted as
no words were spoken. Ten pennies in the well,
now it choked on its serving and all was silent.

Wishes are for fools, as a price is always asked
and unthinkable acts do not meet its worth.
Poetic T
Written by
Poetic T  On Oblivions Doorstep
(On Oblivions Doorstep)   
     The Dedpoet and Poetic T
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