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Song of a Night Owl

Midnights have become too long,
too cold, too lonely.
We lie beneath a blanket of black,
enshrouded in darkness with speckles
Of stars incessantly trying to kiss it away.

We fight amongst ourselves,
biting and snarling with the ugliness of hate.
We forget that even the moon
Can look fragile.
We paint our world gray and wonder
Why is it dull?

We reach and stretch and pull our skies
Until the fabric begins to tear.
We reach and stretch and pull ourselves
Until we

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