dreamer of winter
whispers in pale blue light
predator to silken-skinned
children of the rainbow
what is left in this village
i dare not know too much of
mine is an empty mind
rid of strange but real pictures
/
moonshine drunks
danced the revelry
of those long forgotten
by reality
in a kiss of cerulean
wings the conscience
of heaven left me
for good
until madness
like a sea of black arms
and legs gripped me
hard and close
i couldn’t seem to think
of simply running away
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