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Have some faith in the dead

They are not strangled by time as we are.

Mind-lurking, shadow-haunting, feeding off the regret deep in your bones.

 

When your dreams are what you dread

You spend your waking hours not seeing very far.

And yet when all is said and done, they bring us back to our homes.

 

What are we worth when our fates are strung and read?

As clear as day, engraved into every last star.

At least they are free; free to wonder and wander from atop their skull-ridded thrones.