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IT WAS MY CHOICE
I've known the owner of lies
And seen winged demons
Hang in dark solitude
Amongst his great room's ballasts.
Black pine, shadowed
By cooking fire
And forges
Fashioned for ulterior motives
Disguised by friendly eyes.
Time passes slowly in trial's transit
Soon resting upon cliff's edge
Regardless of time
And force.
Absence of grey
For this wraith.
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