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Climbing staircase to the valley,
Trail of ambivalent strides.
Where we made a bed with broken bones,
A place where soul resides
To fade into oblivion
Where our dreams go to die.
I've been singing myself to sleep,
In the serene nights.
I am searching for the fire,
That used to burn inside.
Death is the sweet elegy,
Epitaph a wasted life.
Incarcerated in shell so hollow,
Longing for the sunrise.
72 Launches
Part of the Poetry collection
Updated on December 20, 2021
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