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Into the Half Moon
Under the half moon, beyond the full trees,
I see the sad spirits and they see me.
Toward them I stride in that dream-state pace,
And beside them I see their hanging face.
Can they end me? Can they touch me at all?
Under the half moon, beyond the full trees,
I lose those spirits. Do they cease to be?
Without them I drift off, leaving no trace.
Within me exists a devil's embrace.
Did they end me? Did they touch me at all?

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