Last Poem
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Lustrous awe
Cradle me
Woe befall
The falsifier
The sights rued
To fall
And scatter
Like the leaves
A shadow
A bond
Reach.
Comes to grips.
It slips
Comes to grips.
It slips
Settled on the wall
Between the ash
Nothing said...
Into the past.
A two way mirror
Each utter
Into the past.