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Ranger
Poems
Mar 2017
Hope is the last thing to die
Why is there hope
That thing that seems to linger
It ties me down and binds
It's warm embrace
Heaven to some
Hell to others
Why is there hope
When all seems lost
Like a dream of things to come
For the future and for life
Slowly decaying
Twisting in a heart like a knife
Why is there hope
A curse that can't be released
When hope becomes pain
A hot coal in my hand
When it's time will I be free
Cold and fades
Because hope dies last
Written by
Ranger
In the Dark
(In the Dark)
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