Holy Ghosts

November 17, 2017
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A perfect world with perfect stains
That soak through our clothes
And run further down

Holy ghosts that sing refrains
With shattered prose
Once renowned

Recycled, reused, reduced to dust
That settles of the fiction
We believe to be true

A paradise faded from gold to rust
Illustrates a depiction
Of black’s deepest blue
 






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