The sky felt dense,

The mood it gave off,

Like moths in hue,

And butterflies in pale,

The showering of haze,

Over us at ease,

It’s not seen,

And there I won’t be seen,

The morning routine,

Of the everlasting gloom,

The day stuck in reprises,

And another one it seems,

It flies by scoring petrified faces,

Clipping by the nests,

It sta...

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