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A still dark lake,

An inner agony too much to take,

Surrounded by black mountains,

The mind eroding a dark boulder, 

Pines that are stand in a line,

Hope and help surround to ensure, all fine,

Rocks held together by runners and weeds,

Like good deeds, 

All seeing blue eyes,

Eyes judging your every action,

White holes on midnight sheet left to dry,

As a rare as opportunities warranting a reaction, 

Even a quiet scene,

Relates to thoughts unseen.

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