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Avingnon-word-bubble
{ Slay —— Avin
The name of this poem is "What, Does it become from They?" it has a PG-13 rating. The poem is also not dedicated to anyone, and criticism is allowed.
00:18, February 16, 2015 (UTC)
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No-one is allowed to copy from this, you may use the ideas that you may receive from reading this. If you wish to use part of this poem in a story or for anything else on the wiki, politely ask me before you copy the poem.

What merriment is there in friends? They come and go always.
Who will stay here until the end? Somebody leaves always.
What will be there throughout it all? It will break always.
Something has to be done; they’re all falling apart.
The left is swinging down; the right is falling through.
The green is going to the right; the purple is singing up.
The tree is burning the bushes; the desk is coloring the walls.
The ring is spinning in circles; the table is snapped in half.
The eye is looking away; the hands are moving forward.
The walls are crawling away; the sun is singing blue.
The ground is ringing sallow; the wind is scorching gallows.
The sand is driving herds; the mind is thinking circles.
Around is going behind; faraway becoming near.
After is becoming near; hatred is singing yellow.
Left is swinging right; right is swinging down.
Down is swinging up; left is swinging all around.
The sound is quieting up; the night is setting dawn.
The sun is coloring nighttime; the moon is setting suns.
The left has moved right; the right has moved left.
The clock is ticking; the arrow is moving.
Left has become up; right has gone down.
The arrows go around; right and down.
Left and up; the arrows go around.
Slowly singing colors fade away; the night is sheltered.
Left has gone down; right has faded away.
Time is shifting onward; hands are falling backwards.
Left is around; right is drowned.
Up is left; drowned has become right.
Right has sunk; left has fallen.
Fallen is drenched; sunk has risen.
Drenched has softly spoken; risen has fallen.
Risen is rising, just as the sun is setting.



Where do we go? Up, down?
Do we drown in love?
Does the sun go down?
Where do we go? Here, there?
Off the face of the cliff; sheer?
Does the bare bare to stare?


Up has become down, left has become right.
the sun has set, another night.
The path of gold, so far from site.
the left is sinking and the sun is setting.
The ground is shaking and the night is breaking.
The moon is hanging and the left has begun.
The sun is setting all around, midnight is creeping.
The man with it, so gladly seeking.
The left has been cut, the left has fallen.
the wrong is rising, left out from hiding.


A black midnight calls out unto me.
I can feel it searing out of the rising sun.
I can hear the midnight’s wondrous call.
I can feel it running into the fall.
I see the sun setting behind a shadow.
The eye of the moon calls out unto me,
Another black midnight and the moon falls away.
Sun sets on the shadow of tranquility.

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