descending dawn
sent by the magnificent, sweet, seven sisters
pragmatic, prisms popped, amongst the pleiades, hung
then descended dawn, on my royal blue heaven
the morning dew dripped, from the tip, of my tongue
kaleidoscopes, in closed caskets, burst from the skies
amber grease, greased the wheels, of my sweet surprise
picnic baskets, filled with fauna, dropped in my eyes
here eternally lies, on that day, that I died
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