In black of night and dark of storm,
Where whispers lurk and thoughts take form,
Lies the tomb of Have and Must,
A faint remind of what's been lost.
Where shadows scurry, pain is free,
Ghosts that linger on was and will be.
It's now alive with cries of pain,
Pouncing in walls clothed in shame.
A battlefield's been left behind,
Of tainted heart and blackened mind.
But don't distress of thoughts of rue,
Day will bring your morning dew.
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