Hush now, the pest has gone,
And whilst the fibbings may commence beginning of the end
Forth shall come the sward of the battle.
“Aye,” they utter, wheeling the corpse away.
Heard or not gritted teeth bare the words… and shall be spoken with fault.
Still…
Arrange your own splinters of moon…
Be musing that latter days hath latter nights,
As you cease into slumber,
Hush now…

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