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Brycycle

Nightfall

A last ray of light succumbs to the dark 

While the dithering shadows close upon us. 

What was once colours of shades so bright, 

Are now shadowed by the creeping blight. 

 

The moon mourns with the sky that cries, 

Watching the reaper as it floats wide. 

The people I see are painted with gloom, 

Through the eyes their woe will surely bloom. 

 

The things we fear stand in thrall, 

Whilst we sneak through our own permanent nightfall.