Marc Aupiais Poetry
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The desert follows its nature,
The Night deserts its queen,
An eagle sours in dark, in night,
Bliss taints her vision, ignorance calms her soul,
She alone knows her mistake,
Her eternal payment reflects itself,
Her error is sown through the eternity of time,
Her wound is an un-enchanting chasm, certain as the clouds,
The wind shivers at her presence,
The stars look up upon her face and wonder,
Her eyes will never show her pain,
The illusion breaks the truth,
A lie guides her!

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