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Come
Dance with me
Unto oblivion
Lower your hood
There was
a poem
here.
It's gone now.
[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]
Crow, as reimagined by the talented Arindiis. Not unlike the various carvings that the man himself leaves scattered on woodposts and barrels.
Masks, countless, upon my face-
Grains of sand on an endless shore.
The friend;
The lover;
(S)trapped in (t)his (s)hell.
(D)our words,
My cur(s)e.
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