The roaming spirits

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By Sara

I cast my spell out, they awake, Rising out of the deep red liquid, I greet them with a smile, they glare, Their slipery wet darkness casting shadows. I lift my glass and drink to them, Looking suprised they also drink back to me, I ask about their life and death, Silvery, transparent tears fall silently below the floor. These are the roaming spirits, looking for answers.

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