Pressed
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Pressed
I am up to the task,
it is… right now…at hand…
I will do all that I can,
to be there, for you.
First let me call to fight, all that I have learned.
Enticing drugs, of every color,
flavors of the unknown…?
Be ware… (spoken, in a whisper of violent reverence)
I draw breath.
Cast and lure,
like fishing for men,
an evil sportsman indeed.
I stab at thee.
You are not the winner,
Here!
There,
in that crazy place,
I find it is not … I.
At all!
To fall upon my sword,
to die…
I am a cub.
A small flower in a sea of green.
Tiny, hopeful created,
mortal…
The Lion roars,
He knows your name… (as only He knows…)
Be fearful and afraid.
The Maker is in power…
and has come unto my aid.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
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