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Black boots, red shirt
smoke filled lungs, deepened breath
novel I, naive at best
his every act provoked my fears
and like a lamb in a cave, his prey was done.
He promised fame, He promised strength,
above all else, he promised love;
a love he says that would be felt
so much that all my fears be purged.
'You'd be a man' he boldly said,
'You'd be a man, just take the axe'
His speech was good, He'd sold the goose
but I could not shake this gut-like itch;
a concealed truth, a gravelike ooze.
And so I ran, with quickest feet
for the axe I'd spurned now seeks my neck.
©AlphaSage
Aloft In Thoughts
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