The Beast of Selfishisness
If there could be but only one thing
I may critique, my dear Lord,
Oh why a ruby's precious
Only as its fragile
Only because,
Oh how a word
So desperate to be heard
Why dear god,
For plenty lose merit?
Because,
From behind,
My left,
A whisper for my ear
Because,
Because,
The swine are being stoked
Sharp white iron
The air is breathing heavy
Hot ribbons flying off
My vision is getting blurry
As the wrought passes closes
I pray it is not for me
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