The Circle

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In a symphony of chaos, 

Death a sweet release.

Blesses those who are worthy, 

Of its light, of its glory.

The opera still carries on, 

As night wears out, 

The fat lady graces the floor, 

And sings till all is over.

The depressing tunes the piano emits, 

Echoes all around the hall.

As the clock ticks down, 

To a new start, a new dawn.

And as the dawn enters the world, 

Shyly throwing its light, 

Slowly, slowly she ascends, 

And then turns back to night.

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