At_Last

White Horse G.F.E. McGuiness

White horse dead. Mules of water laced of cloves Tendered in it's stead. Handsome stock strained of pride Licked, drawn, underfed. Evening haunt of fright, of blight, Nyx's children work the night. Of thirsted swallowed spirits, numbed, Embraced, we curl in Somnus's arms, For soon his winged brother comes. Torch of darkness.

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