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Asked by
Shakeepuddn,
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Asked by
Shakeepuddn,
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From the ends of the Earth my name is told
Where new land meets water and seasons are cold.
My looks are scarred with the lines of a story;
Of marriage and death and legends of glory.
I am but a branch from a proud family tree,
Or a standard of shame to stain history.
My tongue remains muted, but if closely you look:
The summary plot of an unwritten book.
Look to the sky to read a tall tale,
Now guess what I am,
It’s easy, don’t fail.
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