We are Kings and we Live and we DreamMature

We are illusions
of grandeur
Playing fame
at the tips
of our fingers
at the end
of wisps of smoke
We are dreamers
trapped on ley lines
on the wings of ravens
We are Ghosts
long dead
trapped in our skin
where we should not.
We are a forest
of things
that shouldn't exist
But here we are
we do
we will.

The End

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