I stole the soul of the moon,

Kept it unclothed to illume

Dark, deserted manor rooms 

And fireflies that forever loom 

Above fifty forsaken tombs.

I secured a piece for me,

Kept it between creases deep 

And verses of revered balladry 

Written on the tattered leaves 

Of my hands rickety.

But then came a shooting star,

Its hands stocked with bits of its hea...

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