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18 November 2008 @ 01:58 pm
Poem: Nay  
You shout, with your military command.
We won’t salute, “Aye, aye,” just wave our hands
in raindrops pouring from the purple sky.
And when you rage and order a reply,
We’ll tug at inky cloaks and wonder dreams.
“What is this about?” you ask, “It seems-”
Oh no, we reply silently, it is.
There is no seems, it’s only what it says.
krosnoholm on February 16th, 2013 10:20 pm (UTC)
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