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The Fortress
Jada Molton
Pain, searing, coursing through my veins,
the type that rips into the soul of mine own flesh.
Why dost pain make itself so strong?
Stones piled high to make a castle,
water trickling down the walls and flowing underground.
A siege against the fortress,
the tower crumbling down.
What agony dost those soldiers feel, the broken down quality with which they fight and lose.
Such pain against the hope of triumph.
Does thy blood run free, trickling from the wound?
Torturous laughter spewing from the mouth that speaks of thee.
Mine own pain, so weakening to the body,
doth not compare.
Forever changed in all the ways thy battle plan has failed.
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Enchanted,
Castles within kingdoms fell to rise
Sands of time sift oh how age flies
I beckon to recall your soulful tone
Embracing
Enchanting eye's looking at me with that sparkle of your own kind. Your so high but you'll come at a drop of the dime. You're
by Jada Molton
The Fortress
Jada Molton
Pain, searing, coursing through my veins,
the type that rips into the soul of mine own flesh.
Why dost
by L D Redmond
Enchanted is the garden,
At the bottom of the stream,
Where pixies hide and make their home,
Or so it would seem.
Mist hangs
Wind whispering a timeless symphony
Drifts through leaves smelling rain-storm sweet,
Shadowing secret places in a summer garden.
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Poetry: Enchanted
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