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languidly so worn
what burns as badly
as a pressing
of clothes
languidly worn
in the bloody past,
there's no silver star,
its killing me to wish
not for a bull with horns
Its hurting to try to win....
I've caved in Empires
in the closure of caves
just a kid pretending......
There's the eyes ahead
but not above this sadly.
Copyright ©
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward
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