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Raven Cole Poem
White plague like light,
brilliant beams haloed in contruse cubes,
consuming me, like angels wrapped in holy linen
turned vile and sinister. They beat their backs against
the hard earth .
Deformation of reality like ice turned to stone,
Dreams of snakes bitten at the leg by the tail.
Blood bought ages ago, lovers we were and dreamers,
cast out into the fire like little butterflies, fluttering
down in spiral patterns, releasing the spirit.
Copyright © Raven Cole | Year Posted 2007
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