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The night rises, watching my dreams curiously.
The moon riding a werewolf clings to the hand of silence One to another smiling awfully, drawing eternity. The nothing dances with the nobody in darkness with a bow tied up in chains of synonyms. The entranced rhythm blooms the snowflakes to fall lightly in the soul, as visions. Insomnia sleeps in laurels on my pillow Because there is no more saddening ballad in the world Than us, the story that does not exist. The Moon, not the Earth, lays on my shoulders, It is too empty there without the second pronoun. This is why the pale light is a weak attempt To dismiss the monster`s dance inertia That makes ashes and mist on the rocks. are you here, somewhere? if you are, let`s smile towards tomorrow
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