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Watch them, waiting, keyless
While winter winds sweep in,
Wrenching locks apart.

Door, closed,
Creaks

Stones curled into shadow
Clack across broken tiles.

Slithers of light weave through,
Latticed upon monuments.
Shadows of monster and gods
Nestle
...safe-

------
The conscious shape reality.


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The following comments are for "Finding shelter in an abandoned museum at the end of the world"
by Furius





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