Apocalypse
They tiptoe the light ground
They make up the last sound
With big eyes they gaze down
With full hearts they look 'round

Revolving with the Mother&'s beat
Evolving until just they meet
Involving names we do not speak
Dissolving when they feel the heat.

Silence echoes in the mind
Thoughts in which such horror's lined
The brave, the weak are intertwined
The dirt and dust is all they find
12.22.02
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