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Untitled (1OM)

In a land of ice and snow, where few winds dare slight to blow,
sharp skies above, deep gash below, the wasteland's ice so old, sorrow.
The water walked from times long gone, walked by those who don't belong.
The beasts long dwelt though rarely seen, so cloaked by trick it did not seem,
thought rather, few and far between.
Land so cold; forgiveness lost - an age ago by endless frost,
forgotten now, though it does weep for times when lands had souls to keep.

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