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originally posted by: Aeshma
a reply to: midicon
Well met Midicon,
As the hairs stand up in the warm glow as tiny dancers,
One by one they begin the twirl,
Round and round they writhe and turn to ash.
Their dance floor now cracked, scorched with flash burns
Where once the sweet words of my mothers voice played on ears
There is a deafening silence,
I open my mouth to cry out only to find it filled with earth,
Heaving, I squirm, tears swallowed by ash.
I did not choose to go this way,
I can feel my mother slip further away,
In the distance she wails.
As I become the silence.