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Tuesday, March 21, 2006


heya
In the glow of a silver moon,
With a whisper on the wind.
A cloud as dark as doom,
Shed over he who sinned.

A heart made cold with guilt,
A soul has lost his way.
He wanders without will,
His conscience gone astray.

And in the beating of his gait,
A voice calls in the night.
Filled with chill and hate,
with vengeance and with spite.

He tries to block it out,
To turn it all away.
But the voice becomes a shout,
It's tone cannot allay.

"No fleeing for the doomed.",
It calls in a venom hiss.
His heart now so consumed,
with guilt he cannot resist.

For under the shadowed sky,
For in that very night,
He willed a man to die,
Killed him without fright.

His dying voice is bold,
accusing of his deed.
Though his vengeance he does hold,
It's repenting which he needs.

He knows what he has done;
Regrets what he did not.
And in the absense of the sun,
He knows he has been caught.

With a pounding heart,
Without a fleeting glance,
His fear he let impart.
He will take his chance.

Swiftly as the night,
Silent as the moon.
He leaves behind what's right.
Goes off to meet his doom.

But still in his beating heart,
Forever it remains.
The voice there from the start,
binding him like chains.

hi all sorry i cant get on much any more but ill get on ocasionally. okies by.

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