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Catharsis
She sits atop the cliff,
Overlooking the teal sea,
and writes.
Wind thrashes and crashes and screams:
bitter, cold, biting slanders,
cursing the works therein,
and accusing of all sin.
She shivers.
The clouds stir,
a raindrop falls,
She puts her pen down.
Gray disquiets the sky,
She stands up.
The clouds darken,
grow sinister,
melancholy gray turns black,
The sea surges -
in tumultuous torrents,
unceasing,
unremitting,
The wind rages,
shrieks,
disparages -
She jumps.
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