Black branches stretch your limbs
Before the sore and swell of time
Ages you against the wind,
Against the bend that shapes these crimes.
Blackest limbs, embrace the sky
Before growing in the crevice
Of fiercest pressures to bow or die
And forget the flowing heavens
Somewhere above your crooked frame
Take one last look at flaming stars,
Before the wind has made you tame,
And you’ve forgotten who you are.
viewingcamelot 
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