300 little characters
A mournful council hold.
Too few are remaining now
To truthful call a fold.
Brevity the only law
Here at the end of days;
No time for analysis
In fog of final way.
Breathlessly they disappeared
Into the grey of naught;
The quest for visibility
Only erasure taught.
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Author:
Quemis (
Offline) - Published: December 19th, 2024 16:08
- Comment from author about the poem: ...
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Offline)
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