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by ProdigalPoet
18 lines, 4 comments,
on Apr 13 1:55 PM 2007
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She was born on the 29th of February,
a special person all around,
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his instrument,
like a hundred piped organ.
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The wind playing games,
(like little children in spring),
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he doesn't dream,
he's in very deep.
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Never let go.
Never surrender.
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I spin around nothing, and come back with free hands.
I can hear the Requiem.
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Come to grips with that.
You bastard.
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Lets go dancing,
a waltz in the shadows.
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Disembodied sounds of nothingness,
no one, not here.
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true love,
my stone from the river.
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If we kill someone,
we apologize and it's fine.
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As the opulescent sun teeters agiley upon the horizon, the dark gold rays of energy spray the earth with life. The incandesant warmth heals the sick, and moves
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This Pillar of life stands in front of me,
a bastian to all hope,
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Prayers I've sent, pleaing eloquently,
I've had to come to accept,
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The Goddess, breathing sweet breath of love,
against the lavendars that sway so,
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For when we realize what it means to see,
It takes away pieces from people like you and me.
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In heart, soul or body?
Where art thou,
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