A Poet's Dying Breath
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Come sun.
Come rain.
Beat down on this skin of mine.
It can take it.
I know because I can.
I will not be beaten.
I will remain.
And I will dance,
Thrive in your glories
And strife.
In the common man's tongue:
"Come at me, Brah!"
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