Raw pain cries, from inside out.
The frozen nighttime rain continues
With a whispered willow’s throw;
Dangling verbs, wording their amusement.
Black sheath ever marching,
Grown to cover blankets, toys,
And sparkling noise
Provided for our elders, friends,
And not so much an enemy
Our mirrored image shown.
Breathe out our bequeathment
In prose-filled feelings blown.
Alone unable,...
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