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Once


Submitted:Jul 24, 2007    Reads: 108    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


The gate of procession.

A heaven.

A hell.

My last stand in this swept of in breath.

A God for call.

Now not man or land.

In a justice.

In sake.

My flesh to my bones.

A blood as its been seeped to this stance.

The gate as it was, as it will once more.

If it is in a plead.

A god.

A man.

The gates of reaper is seeped.

Once a god.

Once a Land.

For when my bones have fleshed.

A breath could have been swept.

The gates held their stance.





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