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| Grave Yard |
| The silence of the paths, Leading through the rows. Each step I take, Shows me more and more, Of stories untold. An angel perched upon a concrete cross. All of the concrete symbols, With their deep spiritual meaning, Meaningless now. I run my fingers, Along the rough surface of stone. The small plot, Holding the body of a loved one, Cold in a box. A life, That no one will ever see, Or hear of again. The grass growing aroung, Shows the time passed, I feel safe in the arms of the dead. |
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