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Mar 20
It rises above the clouds,
It is the master,
and the slave.
It is the wretched creature,
awaken from a thousand years of sleep.

But at what cost?
At what show will it play,
and to whom?

Its the sand from the sun,
the second note on every song,
A tuned instrument squealing at the command of its master.

A pig in the barn,
four legs,
five.

The clock ticks each morning,
yet the sun settles every night.

When they come,
We will leave,
But in the direction of the rising moon.
Stay Safe everyone!
Written by
Juan Bot  25/Gender Questioning/The surface of the earth
(25/Gender Questioning/The surface of the earth)   
387
   Logan Robertson
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