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Aug 2019
If sorrow is for the poet,
Then mystery is for the dreamer,

I shadow a mince of swollen pride
It batters me
Like a mauling iron
of birth-stone and fire
I surrender

From time
and time again,

I select
A version of indecision so in-vain
I could barley sketch the sheet
or ventilate

Maybe that's all

Who knows
Sometimes the day goes
Written by
Kody dibble
290
       William A Poppen, Traveler and ---
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