Michael Carlson (12/30/1994 / Phoenix, Arizona)
They fly away
flying now, because now is the day
the day of which, the next they'll not see
The life of which, theirs will not be
Their shadows i see, flowing out
In eerie tendrils, thick and slow
it takes a while, for them to go
I know when they've left, for their eyes can tell all
They start to fade, all dull and gray
I fear I fear, for that time every day
I fear i fear, for that eerie display...
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