Sep 24, 2005 17:27
Winds bend in torment, nigh branches of fate
Take root into barren, sullen grounds.
Groaning squalls cannot but stir the dust out
From under the boughs of the iron trunk.
And after, dirt settled, the fight over,
Faint screams of a vain gust can yet be heard.
Fading echoes etched upon the parched earth.
Alongside the countless others before.
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*ahem*
*places heart into a box and hands it over*
There ya go, ma'am.
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