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After Tiresias

Take them by the hand, devil in white with perfect hair,
turned blind by the light of the setting sun,
waited for the night,but only drunk flies did come

dare them to sing and they shall cry,
let them down softly with your pitted eyes,
grapes fed to the dogs because no king sits still
books trodden on in the road of wisdom
spears solitary and alone
digging into the armpits of memories child.
Written by Giomarach
Published
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