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Monday, April 13, 2009

Demons

Demons of another kind,
Gentle touch that could blind
Cold shoulder or spitting fire,
Neither a crisis nor desire
Just a note the angel plays;
A requiem for dying days
Pouring pity, pouring hate
A stain etched on to the eternal slate
Foe or friend?
We could find out if there were actually an end
Samantha Stough
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COMMENTS
i like how u connect the aspects of a demon in this poem.. brilliant imagery fantastic poem
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