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  • It’s Always Winter

    All the good
    In the world
    Is cupped into the
         tiniest of spaces
    Where not even the wandering 
         omniscient eye
    Can divine the secrets
    Nor separate facts
    From delusions 
         of insanity
    In that tiny world
         in that tiny space
    Grows the germ of 
         the deepest truth 
    That when the 
    Darkness finally acquiesces
    It reveals the sprout of hope

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