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The White Storm
DLBanksAWM12

The white storm.
 1
Whirling, twirling, killing leaving none.
 2
None to live and fight for tomorrow.
 3
Some die when born.
 4
Others left to dwell on some false hope of light.
 5
Here comes our day,
 6
Our day of reckoning.
 7
For she'll come to hold my hand,
 8
All the way to the deepest down.
 9

27 May 07

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Comments:

did you mean DAWN as the last word?
Anyway it matters not
this poem, is stupidly inane.
A bigger cliche I could not imagine.
 — unknown

no i ment deepest down thx for the feedback it isnt one of my best so i can understand thx
 — DLBanksAWM12

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