Intro: stepping on nails and stars

They were all gone. The light was calm.
The timepiece bashed with hate.
‘T was too early. Or so late?
Nails bleeding in the palm.
Few stars had jostled with a nudge
to hear their shadows spread on mould.
It was so hush. So cold.
Nails ready to adjudge
a sorrow, a sigh. Thorns whisking by.
The bells of rustling rumors ring.
Tears felt to the ground and spring.
Nails all alone detach from sky,
and stars shall sing:

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