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Stolen MAG
Here be the stench
The sickness of loss
As her pale eyes glaze over
Here be the shadows
That chase through the years
Crowding 'round the bed frame now
Here be the coldness
The chill of the frost
That freezes my heart's fire
Here be disease
The darkness of fear
This that curdles the blood
Here be the promise
Of ending it soon
Of stealing the days, the nights and the morns
Of taking away the fragrance of life
Of cracking the mirrors now
For she breathes but it is not breath
And her lips do not form words
She is shrunken and wasted
Here on this bed
Her body now just a cage
And it gives me pause
That she should die here
Wasted away and alone
That she who loved the forests
Who loved the mountain streams
Should fade away in these shadows
Of people who know her not
That she shall die in the presence
Of those who feign as knowing
The inner secrets of a soul
That once was as wild as a stormy sea
That once was perfection to me.
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