Moral pius, elements true,
Of deepness, rath or shades of blue.
The truth I need as love construe.
As a blinded eagle fly’s on through.
Chirp the need, to eat the grass.
From earth as point to hollow cast.
Rest the wick of a candles past.
Its fire the death of you.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 12th, 2026 11:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Offline)
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