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behold the passing hour nigh

when death through spineless pride
one's life of dignity deprive
when woe its tedious gloom cast
o'er innocence immured
shall not I, in the aftermath,
serenely life's unchastity rewrite?

behold the passing hour nigh
permit thy soul not the warmth
of death's final kiss, unwittingly,
perceive as of the breath of life
thus thy heart in passion's wake
despairingly be betrayed

weep not for those whom the veil
of death hath obscured from thine eyes
weep for those whom death in
dread has profaned

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Hi Nokros, a powerful poem, indeed. I like your use of language in a classic fashion. I'm not sure I understand it all. Weep for those whom death in dread has profaned? Do you mean in war or some other kind of carnage?
It's grim but very well written. Gracy

"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

for visiting teddy and gracy. needed your input

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