Moles dig holes
Crisp, the cryogenic scene,
A dawn upon a silent land.
Who goes there, foe ?
Friend who could swear an oath,
What scandal this to see,
A foolish, awkward, liability.
Beneath the promises come,
A work of deep dark secrets.
Work for aliens of peace,
Who would seek only praise,
Of men who pay assassins.
Ruth had felt the hand,
Of insipid trickery to hide.
A world of secrets unknown,
Saving no-one face, 'cept they,
The ones who own no shame.
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