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Footsteps lead down a dim corridor and taunt her
As she chases the silhouette of someone she once knew.
No guiding light for the bare bones of tattered souls, who there roam,
Still visions of wild fires and shimmering stones thrust her along.
Each step nearer to whims reach,
Yet never healing the hidden path she once danced down,
With the ever echoing sound of kindling at her feet.
A sickening sport but she wouldn’t dare say goodbye
Because dark twisted deceit kept her alive.
She fed on the fight and hungers for more.
In the shadows of the muted moon she’ll wait for passion at his door.

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