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Tendrils
Snaky tendrils
'cross the sea
Eating up living history
Bringing home most plentiful lives
As it creeps back to hide
Into its hole until morning time
Can you see?
The beast creep free
Its bone fingers reaching for thee?
The cold accompanies the beast to Feast
And eats the remnants of the night before's royal treat
The snaky tendrils
'cross the sea
They eat up living history
Run for your lives
Swim if you can
The beast's feast
Begins again
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This poem is about fog, as odd as it seems, and how fog can destroy your sight and make you crash and die, (ships)