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The Lonely ReaperAnd the Reaper came not on Horseback,
Without cloak and without dread,
And he did not come in Ghoulish black,
Without limb or lacking head.
No, the Reaper was no threat at all
When first I saw him in the grass;
Broad and crooked, standing tall
His scythe so gleaned in brass.
He came to me a weary man,
With weary face and blade so dull;
Skin shrunken in like silken sand
cross the contours of his skull.
Oh, he wore no mighty, blackened cloak;
Upon his shoulders rags hung, lank.
For his frame was wiry, thin as smoke
And within the garb he shrank.
And his eyes, marbled, so white
Peeking out beneath a brow
That still, in D
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More