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Shane Oltingir May 2014
In the solace of his pillow,

In the darkness of the pillows case,

Seeps the dew of all -- and everything --

He'd sooner left unsaid.

He lays the damp side on it's back --

Baptised, and cleansed in stormy tears;

He finds the strength to raise his head,

And pretend theirs nothing else to fear.

But a storm is brewing up ahead...

— The End —