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Apr 2014
Night is but a word for the darkness that roams with men and the lands.

The song of the winds sparkling with a woman's tears unshed.
His blanket drapes her in the pitch of night.

A cure basks within the lady's eye.

Salt water.

The tears, made salty by the churning sea.
Cry the river dry.
Bewail until all is nigh.

The night is coming.
The darkness foretold.
Beware the madness
with a daggers fine edge.

Night may be just a word.
But the wickedness is true within man's might.

The sun will rise to cleanse the lands.
Daylight breaks and the word changes.
The faith of the worshipers dancing amongst the shining vivid rays.

The danger has passed.
Be still her fleeting heart.

But be wary,
dear maiden of mine.
For the darkness of the night will soon befall again.
Β© Victoria
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