occoquan1's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Anon ...and wherein misfire the chambers of my black old heart, crumpled still, and blown apart like cold, dead, ash. The shadows fall, the moon no comfort, and the stars still spin their webs, like a billion spiders waiting for that one dark bloody feast. The gentle wind and the spring sunlight are nothing but a blind for winter's grip upon my fading, shaded soul. 2:04 p.m. - 05-24-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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