Under the cold moonlight,
she stands upon a pedestal,
singing an undying hymn
to the broken city below.
silver moonbeams slide,
trapped in silent tears,
down her cold cheeks
and into a black oblivion.
among the ruins,
spirits and shadows
of things that once were
dance to a haunting melody.
and at once,
all is silent.
and all is still,
as if it never existed.
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i know it makes no sense. but emotions are fickle things.
