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Lost

Monstrosity created
You leisure, you turn:
A new born foetus
Kicking and screaming

In your pond:
Clear as a peer
Into your brown eyes -
Or are they green?

I have not been close enough.
Your lusting women
Would guard you from these
Oily palms,

These opened crevices
In this engorged body.
Harmlessly cultivated
Yet you hunt in the

Bright of daylight.
I lose to the rays of her sun
The mountainous legions of her
Love, the truth of her moan.

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