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Apr 2015
Snakeskin umbrella guards a king from the shower
as hailstones sail as if fired from a tower.
Bespoke time bandit guides an eye to the hour.
Moments plucked precisely like seasons of a flower.
As the clocks tick seconds off the lives of a coward,
the worried watch quiet as the minute grows sour.
A samurai arrives to strike the iron:
he was the wise scion on his way to claim the stars of Orion.
A coward dies a thousand deaths. Strike while the irons hot.

If there was a time traveler whose job was to alter the continuum in order for dreams to come true, this is his mission statement.

Written at midnight in honor of national poetry month.
Written by
shogunzoe  29/M
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