Rain Ran in Rues of a Random Race;
A tear on my face with bewitched joy;
Rod o'er a cloak communes intensively;
Where demise resides, serene rejuvenates.
Why should I cry as peace comes to dine?
Why am I mocked in my beautiful heart?
Why am I killed, if I would not die?
Appear and Vanish as I know no Ghoul?
My living Belly purged dejected thoughts...
By:
Beryl Ace
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