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GROWLING WALLS

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Oh! I am still, 

Beholding the winter chill. 

Across the panneled walls, 

Polished chairs and golden grill. 


As of you, 

Feeling the breeze and dew. 

A silent hope, silent tear, 

Tired as pale rider, in brew. 


Then a verity, 

Covert in reality of austerity, 

No dignity in rows of adversity.

So, unaware of belief and reality. 




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