omadhaun


Those self defeating ill of thoughts
Abounds each Morrow’s night of day ;
Whether it be joy or sorrow -
Such lucid sane unfurls in wae .
Every single Moment’s hour
Every Dying’s future stare ,
Immures within One’s wailing stour -
Death , can only rend despair .
And thus within inearth , alas
O nothingness ! Thy days are nane ;
Forevermore will peaceful be -
Who in now shall wear such pain …

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Edenic`s Wearer

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