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Wrists of Kings

Now our blood

Travels though the

Veins of our

HistroyIt bursts forth them

Boiling black

Coulds from the wrists of kingsThe shadow

Lengthens as

Time draws on its tendilsCreep into mythic cracks

Blending with the light of dayWe see it

Now before us

But even so we cannot

Read the lies between the linesBring them nothing

They have

Made it's way

The nights

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