Flying cares caress you with fears,
Angels mutter the praises proudly
Little with sacred nature of man,
Behold divine pleasures called the silk.
By the night starting fiercely, fleetingly,
A twice-taken sum of parchment unfurls
To rid throttling throats of words bespoken
To wrestle, bend and burden the livid memories.
A day is not a night, a night is not a day,
Darkness wears jaws so naturally tonight,
Angels muster juices and frocks so erring,
Answers to puzzled folk keep balancing.
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