Scented Ash
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poem is about nobody in here in the soup
I've walked up blueish poles.
Gazed upon beautiful ogres.
Sampled minty auroras.
Vomited the bleeding, unforgiving cold.
I've waltzed a million lily ponds.
To seek a mirage called bliss.
Despite the perils that swirl
Beneath the horizon of all dreams.
I've put my face to fire.
To kiss a blossoms' lips.
But in the end was given a muzzle of sweet needles.
-the haunt of scented ash.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2016
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