Prologue

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If you had listened carefully enough with your ears,

You might of have heard the strange tune of someone whistling in the darkness of the night.

Or perhaps a muffled shout of fright.

Maybe if only, you peered into the night with bravery,

You'd seen the fight.

Soft skin tissue verses hard sharp steel.

A jangle of keys ringing out from the struggle.

A shot ringing about your ears.

Then a eerily peaceful silence until dawn come.

The sunlight peeking over the treetops,

Spilling light across the deed.

The cold, little waves splash mindlessly with red.

Taped off and laid out for the innocent eyes to see,

Lain a boy with eyes of the dead.

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