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Black Clouds
Flowers bloom only under
thunder clouds
bright in their glum countenance
snubbing the wind
they are stiff
while everything dances alive
before them
Songs sung to them
fall deafly as if meant
for the dead
mourning gaily
blotched out of the light
It could have been
a pretty picture
but to say so would
have been an insult
Awe-struck by the
presiding darkness
where the blooms
take their true delight
Smiling faces should
be made solemn
where the shade is always
welcome, in green and gray
dots of blue, dashes of red
spark of fire quickly quelled.
11:07 PM - 4/1/2008 -
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