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Aaron Beedle Mar 17
I'm cursed with a terrible mindset
I forget all the good of this world
There's evil afoot, and I know of such
but of love am I rarely reminded.

I long for the abstracted season,
when the world's undone at the seams.
When wild gods come knocking, the cradle stops rocking
and insolence bows down to reason.

I yearn for the coming of laughter.
For the chill wind to tell me the tune.
The song still resounding thereafter,
as we walk past the relics and runes.

I show them the gift of the rainstorm.
But few would sit and see.
The Otherland is all around.
But no one's got the key.
Aaron Beedle Mar 17
A muse to darkness, candle that frays,
the bud of the rose plant
sullies the brave.

A kiss under veil, decorum deceit,
the seed has been planted
and curdles beneath.

Like vines they entangle
the voice of the saint
thy soul they shall strangle
and crush, a
restraint,
chokes
the wind
of

breath comes back for a moment,
the wind howls wild for it has been defiled,
the fiend persists with ashen words
but howls protect from unholy verse.

Your wildest dream, hearts desire.
these things you've seen inside my fire.

You walked away and yet
she stands before you
her words still trickle in,
and then they floor you.
About: This was written by someone's request many years ago, I believe on wattpad.com?
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