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Sunday, 2 October 2011

I shall not get my hackles up.
These shackles, stuck.
And tackles luck.
To the ground.
Around.
Surrounding.
Me.
And now you'll see.
What lies beneath.
The thick skin, the heart that beats.
As it dies.
No sighs.
Release.
The pain to cease.
And become bitter.
Sweet.

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