All I am is the helpless stray
So hot on her wandering trail
Through the awful and balmy trees

But it’s worth the dismay
The bloodshed
All the full nights in tears
In the agony of an ego’s sure death

But it’s worth every door slammed shut
Her every brisk cold word of critique
That cascades with laughter

“Your pride must die
In this life-long dance
That deprives you of wind, every now and then”

“All your pride must die
For the good of your bottomless eons of craft”

For the greater good of words
For the love of romantics


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