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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#306941voted by our readers
By Anonymous
O, how the Nightingale sang its song; a sweet melody enveloping the crowd, turned sour by fear, dripping from the chorus like poison. The crowd intensely waited, captivated by...
O, how the Nightingale sang its song; a sweet melody enveloping the crowd, turned sour by fear, dripping from the chorus like poison. The crowd intensely waited, captivated by...