The epic fail

The rolling hills,

Are quit still.

The way the moon shines,

Makes me read between the lines

The way the moon's new rays

Are set in place,

Remind me of the face.

The face of one,

Who calls me close,

The one I think

Is a ghost.

The one who calls

Me a epic fail,

The one who

Rains on me like hail.

Than I think,

Than I know,

These hills are snow.

The End

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