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Fred |
the silence speaks more than a chorus
haunted by the twilight,
obscured before it could be described.
the shimmering rage drops in,
unexpectedly
a sigh inaudible,
an image barely grasped.
strawberry summer storms
spinning fans, glints of sorrow
the cascading glorious fury
assault my eyes.
let me paint for you a voiceless song:
flakes of hope collect at my feet
fashioned of soft luminescence.
i wrap them about my half-formed dreams.
Labels: Fred
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