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angel of the dead
2 Jan 2002
on silver frosted wings she flew
in search of truths both old and new
among the stars she spread her wings
and soared on dreams of many things
on dreams of love vast as the skies
on dreams of guilt that never dies
on dreams that bring a razor near
on dreams that pacify all fear
with whispy flowing silver hair
and alabaster eyes that stare
into the souls of all those lost
within the unforgiving frost
the ears were pointed at the tips,
with small but perfect pouty lips
she spoke to them in many tongues
hoping to reach out to some
with disposition of a dove
full of kindness warmth and love
between her tears she softly said
"i am the angel of the dead"
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