Children of the Night
The moon, fuller now
casts a ghostly glow
across the snowy landscape.
wind whipped-
ice cold-
twenty below.
We are the children of the night;
no food, no shelter, no home.
Sure to die within this wilderness
in which we roam.
Our bones beg for bread-
our flesh for golden warmth
Shuttering and shivering,
abandoning all hope.
We are the children of the night.
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