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Silver's Journal
The moon is dull
scary and bleak, like a cold winters night
The trees are dark
speaking harsh toungues, scarring the sky

Somethings missing in the air
an absence hanging on the edge
of the lonely strangers mind
the sillouhette walks in silence
hands in dark pockets
heart huddled away

From the harsh atmosphere comes the beasts
not dark and unerving but familiar...
when they open their eyes, they awaken the thoughts
the ones you pushed and shoved away
all that hard work is melted as they slip into your view again

all you can do is keep walking
walking with your dark damp clothes rubbing against you
perhaps you walk briskly
or perhaps you walk without a care
you walk towards them unaware

you cant remember what it was like before they came
only what it feels like now
theyll slip away like the night...

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  • [11/27/09 03:26am]
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