Deniz Atay


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Cirrus

I thought I saw a somewhat-cloud,
Somewhat-wool, and some colors around:
'Twas an evening, but whoa!
What's that mournful vision called?
Creepy as a spark, sleepy as the dark,
As it's telling tales to me: all lark.
But it, the only seeming thing, is said
To inspire a human being, instead
It only reminds me of the people now are dead!

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