The early sounds of morning light,
Bit by tiny bit creep out of the night.
To gaze and bid farewell of late
To the Late Sir Misery of Dark.
Forever seeking to nullify thy sins and sate,
Quoth terrible melancholies of saddened fate,
But they smile like the winter as it melts the rock
And the rock in its heat, thaws ice and mock.
The green light glowing from a dewdrop
Fright in sight and a chill in the air.
Some cars and such, honking distantly and crop
The world's whispers into a meaningless affair.
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