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Dawns Decrepit Darkness
In the morning the sky is black
upon the deep blue
only now the stars blink out,
shrouding themselves in tick cloaks
to sleep in their bittersweet contradiction
ironic conflict between what is right
and what is righteous
the beautiful and the borrowed,
sweet second hand sorrow
unlike the stars
you never cease your existence
when the night gives way to
dawn decrepit darkness.

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