The room is scattered with leaves of rust
borne in upon a cold October wind;
rain slants in through the broken roof,
and the Moon grins its sickle grin
upon those who sleep uneasily within.
the Stars turn slowly above, Midnight wanders in;
and something long Dead sighs, Opening its arms.
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My Poems
My poems or short stories, will be different than any other. Maybe more horror, I don't know, what do you think? Comment. Don't Steal. Don't Copy.
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