In the Wake of the Profane

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In the wake of the profane,
Clouds were darkened, skies were grey.
The price she paid, the cost was pain.
When time wasted the day away.
Lost minutes and hours, lost moments,
They are the waters of this sea, and
Vast is this ocean oblivion blows in.
Beneath these waves, cast so much she,
Can hardly remember anything.
Having followed the profane,
Now left bits and scraps not sane.
One of her many rewards: regret.
The reason why, not remembering,
She succeeded to forget.

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