The Circle

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Paralysed quietus

Frostworks creeping on the window,
Temperature is under zero.
Without snow winter is strange,
But hurry up! feasts are in range.

We eat and drink and celebrate,
There is no food that we negate.
But what’s we are happy about?
“Decay’s coming!” divulged the scout.

Freeze will rampage through the stark lands,
That will ruin all the farmlands.
Meanwhile holidays with malice
Coming as an apocalypse.

All I want is escape this jail,
Go through that savior, shining gate.
Get to a Circle, another,
Filled with purity and suffer.

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