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The Dove

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Deep in the corner of the black room,
Eying the crystal skies through the peeling pane,
the white feathered beauty’s wings are crippled.

But caged, covered, and left,
no hope is to be found,
just grey dirt beneath his weak talons.

A passion to flee
burns deep inside,
hotter than any fiery forge.

All is lost and forgotten,
never to be found or seen;
a sinking ship beneath crashing waves.





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