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Threadbare and tangled,
mingled in sand time sits at impossible angles,
how they hover, tears in their sights,
these fallen angels,
give praise for the wicked, we dabble in hatred,
so dismantle the sacred and send off the sun;
what need is its radiance, what need at all?
when in graceless dismay we abide for it all.

Fri vers av Kieran
Läst 246 gånger och applåderad av 1 personer
Publicerad 2014-03-29 00:54

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