Amongst the chatter of typed-out dreams
A void grows black and gnaws at the seams
A silence yearning, swallowed and sour
A guarded fortress until the grey hour
A humble pauper, masquerading as king
A web of frost, translucent as skin.
Abreast the flicker of fantasy-fame
Your wings fan the world, yet here I remain
A myopic hunger, burning and blue
A vacant body, the graveyard of you
As ravens circle nostalgic remains
Of slipping hopes and fast fading strains..
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Background from flickr user
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