dreamt of the sea

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    dreamt of the sea

    I gaze into my own reflection

    A victorious image in cold steel

    Lifeless leviathan

    Gone

    No resurrection.

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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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    bastidastribe7’s Poems (30)

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