deepundergroundpoetry.com
I have a soul that could strangle the sun
...oh
how soundly I've wound
my commoner conscience
against The Prince's purpose - poking;
prodding forth
unworthy faults
A tare - unsightly, bright in it's error
Never choking out the spokes;
never curbing
this curving hollow stalk
Noxious
invasive
pervading
thought
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