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You did move Cupid's practiced hand By what vile means or flip of wand To strike my heart a poisoned blow And bid this painful ulcer grow. Like bird from tree to tree I flit To skip the toil within your pit And maybe find a potent cure To life of fish before a lure. If only you would hear my plea And drain this magic out of me I'd grab a trident and a sword And be to you a vengeful lord. They say you smuggled something dark By food or drink to slave my heart And force me play this shameful part Of dog to its own mother bark.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

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Date: 11/28/2011 8:06:00 PM
a story teller, a poet, a lone fighter, you fascinate me with your poetry.
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