From the window the sky empties to nothing
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and the murder of crows, with their ravished beaks,
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groan for the hollowed inhabitants of the passing day.
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Insatiable sorrow, with its draughty halls, sent a gleaming sword to consume the passing madness only to be
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plunged into a diminishing perspective.
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Inside I trawl the motionless ravines, a twisting hatred that bubbles from under the steaming, scarlet brook
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while the incessant rain washes away the gnawing of your imprisoned eyes.
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Anger, with it's steaming arrows, cuts through the dank air
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dissecting the worn out guilt of October's echoes that drip sadly
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from the dead branches.
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but before they cold leave
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they spent a cold summers eve
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tending the knotted despair
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of a ravaged corpse.
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-----------------
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Angers Steaming Arrows
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Mourning Beloveth |