How I wish to seek the turth hidden within the mornings dew.
How I yern to find life in the pureist darkness.
How I clench the golden,orange light that hit the wooden sword.
How I smashed the sun into the greatist twilight.
How the sky smerd beautfull purple and redish pink blood along the creeping land.
Slowly I began to truely see.
That this magic I createted.
Was mearly the rising sun.
Slowly calming the blackish night.
This is the thing I see each moring inbetween twilight.
I`m I really mad?
Every single night I sing.
To myself I will not blame.
The sky and moon have forced me so.
The shinying stars accpect only more.
The wishleing wind has sweeped across my voice.
Incourching me I have no choice.
The soft slince of darkness claps its hands
As the trees whisper with sleck demand.
I slowly hum peacefully so.
The wind may carry my voice to every clove.
The grass dances around for more.
I become hypotnzined in my own soul.
For even the most caged voice.
Will truly have no other choice.
But to sing to its heart content.
Once the night has held the event.
As I sit here in my chair.
As my mind becomes awear.
How tired my eyes fall to the keys.
Of the letters infount of me.
Yet I never can sleep.
In the world that I must see.
Something deep inside of me.
Foces me to hold no fear.
Of the given night or slince.
Yet once the tired eyes appear.
I cant help but fell it there.
Once the sunlight awakens for me.
I pass out for what feels like weeks.
All the feelings that I seek.
Become even more of a reatitly.
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Sun and Moon
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