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Desperate Times (1 rating) by Stephen W. Cote
Be escorted from the shelter of your village
Through the blight of a storm
Where the fog hangs low
And you become lost
In an obfuscating snow
Blaze a trail through the cold mist
To the snowy peaks of wretched retreat
Where the climes are sheer
And the sunlight doesn't reach
And your foes disappear
In this solitude celebrate the cowardice
Of your weak soul
Shallowly sublime
But don't even think
About your desperate times
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Copyright © 2002 Stephen W. Cote, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines
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