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A Silhouette
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A puddle of water, Collecting dust and dirt, May now be a slaughter, A death of all my hurt.
Faces fade one by one-A childhood friend from all The days of golden sun-In darkness as they fall.
To seek with no response, The forgotten faces Lost in the nonchalance Of heart-to-heart traces.
From my tears and my sweat, From the corner of my eye, Appears a silhouette: An exchange of goodbye.
| Eugene Pierson
