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Fri, 11/02/2012 - 03:24 -- BThiret

These eyes are bright,
They shall not fade,
Into black night,
Where snares have been made,

They shall not fade,
The star's light to bleed,
Where snares have been made,
Keep them from me,

The star's light to bleed,
They hid in rotting trees,
Keep them from me,
The little sharp eyes taking away humanity.

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BThiret

A pantoum style poem about acceptance and judgement.

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