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Descent by Randy Wayne Spire

You seem to listen

few words pass your ear

seem to be open

yet are nothing near

You make assumptions

purse tight your closed lips

draw wrong conclusions

cold ignorance slips

Devoid of reason

you show your real form

words clawing at skin

drawing blood, still warm

In this way you fall

with unknowing grace

eyes fixed and above

cold smile on your face

In this way we part

and for love still yearn

I must rise above

below you must burn.

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