Beneath the rain-soaked canopy, among the sparkling dew
A melancholy tune disturbs the silence were used to
Weep now as we recount it tears should cloud and sting your eyes
At the songs of mourning mingling with the tempests baleful cries.
These songs, unheard by most the world, are tales of plain despair.
See; if you listen hard enough, they seem to fill the air.
And everywhere you turn you see the reasons realise!
Thoughtless encounters lead to beautys untimely demise.
The song, instead of fading, swells into a great climax.
For its singers know, as well as us: theyre never coming back.















Comments
I might be able to help you with a visual art piece (this is only my writing account). Did you have anything specific in mind?
--
How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.
Henry David Thoreau.
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...and you can consider that the end of the matter.
But no, I'm afraid I'm entirely uninspired! What do you think it would work well with?
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...and you can consider that the end of the matter.
I really would have liked to do a photomanip in collaboration with you(because wildlife protection is close to my heart), but unfortunately my computer crashed yesterday, and my Photoshop is gone
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Help DustysDarkRyder
[link]
[link]
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...and you can consider that the end of the matter.
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...and you can consider that the end of the matter.
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