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Literature Text
The stage is set as blossoms bloom,
Like the violinist preparing for a mournful tune.
The death of our dear Winter has come to pass,
And the icy shadows will recede at last.
But let life come forth, to Earth, again,
So many voices, do you have one to lend?
Wake, my dreamers, my dancers, my friends,
Sing in this season, 'till it once again ends.
To my performers,
My crewmen,
To my dearest muse,
To my guests and my audience,
Good luck to you.
Bluh bluh I'm not deceased
I know you were hoping I would be,
But haha nope.
I like Spring.
I know you were hoping I would be,
But haha nope.
I like Spring.
© 2013 - 2024 WatashiWaShinigami
Comments3
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The seats folded upon ground as leaves fall
Like the martyr prepared to sit down and face his fate
The birth of the harsh Winter has just begun,
and the icicles creep down to grasp
Life pulls back, under Earth, now,
So little sounds, they keep to themselves.
Sleep, the active, the runners, my foes,
Sush now, the end is the beginning
To the truth seekers
To anarchists
To my demons
To the unwelcome and peanut gallery
Spare me your hex
Like the martyr prepared to sit down and face his fate
The birth of the harsh Winter has just begun,
and the icicles creep down to grasp
Life pulls back, under Earth, now,
So little sounds, they keep to themselves.
Sleep, the active, the runners, my foes,
Sush now, the end is the beginning
To the truth seekers
To anarchists
To my demons
To the unwelcome and peanut gallery
Spare me your hex