A bleak and barren sky watches me, dying
A crow flies over the frozen lake, crying
And I float alone through my day, flitting
Ghost-like and quiet, no single sylable shared
With any who dare approach my broken cross
Not even father sun in his golden sheen
Or laughter's creek-like merriment
Would dare to shake the crusty haze
Of night's darkness burning bright and blinding,
Blinding the vision of one so afraid of life.
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