Poem -

Raule: the requiem.

Raule: the requiem.

Within the midnight hour
from every cut to stitch,
where the sunken tower's
shadow's in the ditch,

the morning hour will come
until we are alive!
The words will not be sung,
for death has not arrived.

The sadness that I feel
cannot be just my own.
The words I pray to heal 
are not yet fully grown.

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