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Reflection of a Bull

The smell of adrenaline is alive. My body prepares, yet what i smell is that of a lie . My death follows my need, so i go toward the red, the paradise of pleasure, and i start to bleed. The noise gets louder, and i get smaller. I pull back and realize, i need to go harder. So i run as fast as i can, and not after what i need, but all that which they want to take from me. In the crowd i spring. Now their red i taste. Nothing of a win, but its more of a change of day for them.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012




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Date: 2/23/2012 11:58:00 AM
I am enjoying reading some very diverse poetry today. I am glad yours was amongst the ones posted here that I was able to read and enjoy Ace. Love, Carol
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