Poem : Mutiny of Shadows

Every thought is a fire

Fallen on a grass meadow

Even on eyes

Odd to the shades

When you are a green blood

It’s quite faint, foil and fume

Its was to be a mist, mourning myth

Everyman is followed

By the mutiny of shadows

Everyone is crumpling

By the mystery of epochs

This is a boiling logic

Boolean of nerves

Binary of ashes

Let it tether itself

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