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Vision
A drop of blood,
In water, so clean,
Tick-tock, tick-tock,
A pendulum swings.
An aged writer,
Calm and serene,
He sits at his desk,
His song foreseen.
The music written,
As it's played,
The song goes on,
A sick serenade.
Of good and evil,
Of life and death,
Revealing a corpse,
Just short of breath.
It wakes up now,
It's life brought back,
It's planning how,
To make it's attack.
It's goal to kill,
It's counterpart,
The one who took,
Life from it's heart.
It's closer now,
He's almost there,
The victim,
Completely unaware.
(*Inspired by a vision I saw when listening to Tool's "Schism".)
Vision
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