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May 2017
As she breaks and burns,
Through this narrowing night,
Her ointment of prowess
Takes over the duty,
A fraction of lumens,
Yet just as bright
To those glaring eyes.

As she howls over this hill,
She echoes through trees,
Snapping twigs as she goes,
Turning us to stone,
As we stare
At medusa of the night.
A poem about the moon!
Ryan Holden
Written by
Ryan Holden  26/M/Middlesbrough - England
(26/M/Middlesbrough - England)   
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