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   POETRY > The Moon

The moon, the moon

I hate the moon

So pale --

It's bright but lifeless

It illuminates all

And it stirs to life none

Darkness becomes her


Crescent...

She bends like a bow

And truthful is her arrow

She shows you none

She shows you all

Darkness becomes her


O great orange disc

That lights up the sky

Perish the night

Perish the light

You are flame

But cold and icy

Darkness becomes you

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