Fool

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    Fool

    Path of personal injury, I slip my fingers within the flames.
    Dare I touch the embers, tantalize, my rebel hands refuse.
    You are a snare, I open wide my eyes and step…
    Into the danger, the threat that willingly I chose.

    Choice of damage, I place my fate upon your alter.
    If I sacrifice, dare I… I must know what I do it for.
    Within the crystal face of betrayals mirrored water….
    I baptize my soul and confront the traitor’s shore.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    hart’s Poems (12)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Listen 1
    Shades 1
    Sea Fog 0
    Wait 1
    War 0
    Dare I 1
    Fool 0
    Bog 0
    Warriors 0
    Me 0
    Share... 1
    Hunt me Down 0