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Pauper of Prose Jun 2018
How I’ve trekked with muddy boots
Through superficial swamps to arrive here
Where Apollo’s apprentices laze about
Though slicked with sweat the air here is sweet
Where muses pull on poets like reigns
And all dreams and delusions are bared
And all hope and hell shines without glares
And all our secrets slither from our stoic stares
And all are cradled in a community that cares
Oh how I’ve trekked with muddy boots

— The End —