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If I had words
I’d write you storms
I’d write you fire
I’d bid you farewell to
Lasting chaos
But What does one do
when all ceases to be
The fire
The storm
Impending chaos
When silence becomes the norm of the day
These maudlin pathos
Won’t meet your return
No tears, No pleading
Will meet your return
No fervent concern
Will meet your return
What does one do
When all ceases to be
No fire
No storms
No trace of chaos

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