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tears

The wounds of yesterday are yet to heal
I see them still, bloody rings on my heels
I feel the sting; I want to curse
The unctuous flies that lick the pulse;
Curse; curse their dreadful kind that caused the burn
And the foolish lot that looks and turns
Curse; curse the stranger that calls the loss
And my daughters that aid his cause
Curse; curse everything he stands to gain.
My wrath of yesterday shan’t rain again.

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