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Dec 2021
My face in stillness,
threads a shroud of silence.
My skin lightens, my blood thus fades,
it burns and cooks my soul alive.
As it weeps and wallows in the agony,
slow un-coming unforgiving death
slow slow slow death
what a joke of agony
life plays
as its bow plays the tune of my pain
forever linked, forever intwined with your death. .
a t̶u̶n̶e̶ that never ends . . .
A Poet
Written by
A Poet  The Moon
(The Moon)   
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