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Ashes

You ask me for words

My words are
as ashes
in your mouth.
tasteless,
without substance.

they can be found
in the hair
of a mother
mourning for sons
who will never
come home.

or found

dancing on the wind
with the remains of those
that have passed through
the veil.

You ask me for words

yet the fire
of my passion
has long since
burned low
and died

and all that remains
to give you
is ashes.
Written by Judas_Kesler (Judas Kesler)
Published
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