Poetry

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Another Day

written by: SilverLining

Swift, and soundless
Without an echo to measure
Or so it seemed that way to us.

A call beside the moonlight,
Sounding like a wailing howl,
Beseeching at the silver illuminist for
A miracle
In the form of a reflection,
But given nothing

Smug, in dark shadows,
Not seen by any other,
That is
Not in any real form
Taking, taking,
Obvious gluttony.

So we watch
As he cries, implores and convulses,
It merely looks the other way and says
"Maybe, maybe
Another Day..."

Author's Note:
This poem is open to analysis. I thought it would be fun to know what people thought it meant.

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