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Jul 2013
A hollow stippling of a soul in the breeze
    hiding in the bushes of perilous vexing
there are days when the wind howls
    whispers darkly  at the ominous night
feel the chill that passes through
           dances coolly on pressed eyelids
                   floats tepid beyond the senses
             know it's the emptiness that comes
        right before realities' disenchantment
Frieda P
Written by
Frieda P
  853
   GaryFairy, Katie Lowe, sara, K Mae and Jack
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