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I'm a bunch of loved up molecules,
tightly packed in skin.

Atomic soul of scientist, in
perfect spheroid hold.

Die upon the altar
catching dying evening sun,
that pales and fades
with
choir's diminuendo.
Calls the faithful to their knees,
resounds
across the worn cliff face,
ancient.

Cries of secret pain crescendo.
Hard peril for such a tender visitor
to the night
where souls are chained.