55.

As the foghorn drifted from nowhere across the river,

It opened a world, surfaced from deep.

As the plastic unraveled and revealed cold beauty,

the horror was hidden in beauty like sleep.

As the truth became known, the tragedy unfolding

And the image left framed became slowly erased,

As the smile of innocence began to decay

The pages of torment saw to be torn and displaced.

As the desire to know became all consuming

Chants between two worlds longed in fire to see

The loss of her angels fell faster into darkness

And the horror of it all, became lost in the trees

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