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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.
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