Guarding the Dead - Poem

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53
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Tormenting the doors of the dead,
Scornful of the past,
Guarding the doors to the dead,
Guarding the dead.

It was time,
For all to be free,
From the deep slumber,
That needed to end.

Drinking the blood,
In the dead of the night,
Screaming sweet promises,
Walking these haunted halls,
Forever.

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