Lonely Old Poem I Wrote

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It's too late to not notice why I'm up
I hope you're up too.
It's too dark out to see the light outside,
I pray I am as blind as you. The text is so far astray from the nature of its home
Mindlessly I crinkled the parchment; alone. It's too cold for blankets my dear;
I wish you shiver so.
Coddled by the fire, wrapped in fear
I hope -- I hope you need to know. That no thrown can crown the battleground,
of the fire so close to our hearts.
And no town can cease to burning down,
in the presence of its flames. No rain can wash the soot and ash,
to clean up the wreckage -- no.
No flood could clear the blood shed mud
that coated the fields of  love. Broken fingers, never mended, cannot play the proper tune.
And no medic could seal the open wounds, that paved the river of ruin. It's far too close to sunrise, to close my eyes for sleep.
I could close my eyes for good, but I've yet to plant my feet.
The letters are faulty but a silver lining shows;
I was hopeful you may need to -- and I'm sure that you now know. 

 

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