The Most Hurtful Game
February 17, 2010
Yonder the night breaks the silence,
Over the sullen mountaintops,
Under the pale, dead sky,
Losing the light beyond our grasp,
Our sweet solitude knows no bounds,
Singing sweetly into sanctity,
The light shall surely die,
Together we have nothing,
However, alone is mostly everything,
Even nothing itself,
Great minds once concurred,
Amidst all that can be considered,
Moreover, thou shall read,
Every first letter of each line.
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