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fickle gods

we **** with the arrow pointing down

at the fallen, we strike without mercy.

 

we stretch looking at the compass,

no idea where else

to look for meaning,

because the pages have

caught fire, spontaneously,

leaving the world

without words to follow.

 

we **** with the arrow pointing down,

lost in the aim of the compass.

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Written by
nicole-marie-fraticelli
Published
Mar 5, 2012
Lines·Words
11·56
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