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Poetry By: TheScripture

Just some random poetry I wrote

Submitted:Mar 1, 2013    Reads: 20    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

At the precipice

The lords of the land write their names in the sand

The order of the cobblestones belies the chaos they endure

The sun is crimson and swollen

The preachers of doom are truthful, yet useless

For it was known from the start

That the end was inevitable

For all things must return from whence they came,

And dust shall come unto dust once more.


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