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Poisoned Arrows.
Shades of night claw ever near
to halt this songbird's flight,
time has cut his lovers trill
and holds him still upon
the bough.
Cold their hearts
who shoot him down
this minstrel born to thrill.
Shadows call unto my fears
to loose the bond so held,
unlock the chains that
keep me close;
set free those many years,
but it is I who wield the key
and cannot use it so,
for I still hear my songbird sing
and shall not let him go.
