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I anguish
like the screaming morn
molested by darkness,
plodding ahead it spreads
its body open and releases
the holler of dawn, flames
which sustain and destroy
the trepidation of my approach
provoked
as if colossal corpses
of bloodied trees putrefy
ahead as I draw on, barring me,
upon my smoldered steps, I am
destitute
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