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Sunday, October 9, 2011

Hollowed Words

An empty mind and hollowed vessel,
The lies of those beneath the rabble,
Underlying the great warring truths,
There lies in lies a sweet rustic muse,
In my mouth there is only bitter haste,
Walking among the dead bread wastes,
The waning moon mocks the fleeting sun,
The dark sun looks a little glum,
The words then begin to lose their meaning,
In the tombs people seek a new beginning,
In the end confused and torn, I sat forbore,
The question now, how do I end this lore.

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