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Hanging With Hays

Empty eyes, tired of teardrops... They croon of ages long gone when chaotic deeds were done... Empty skies... deprived of dewdrops... they cry of seasons unknown when chaotic seeds were sown. Empty arms, waiting for warm embrace, pressed against drenched pillows they beat against besetting billows. Empty charm, once garnished with grace, She lost her bliss and royal ray... hanging with hays keep beauty at bay.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things