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Hare and berk

Honour lies in a Templar tomb webs of time and dust of long dead life cover like a blanket but bringing no comfort strange wherever there is comfort there is pain Hope lies close by ripped and torn indistinguishable from the flotsam that sprinkles the floor The silence says little and sunlight seems to change its mind and halted brings life to grit within the air and upon a broken stone the words the soul was always gone

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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