hoves into view before dead eyes
still choked with soot our voices crack
our bones still broken
jaws still slack
our paper home survived the storm
more through will than luck
more style than form
more hope of finding clearer days
less chance of strolling the same strange ways
as night gives way to day's caress
and morning dew cleanses our breath
a picture perfect slice of sky
hoves into view before dead eyes
Its fun being pretentious.
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