rugs so old like nags so bold
eyes popping out like seasons of drought
last night's breath so cold
nostrills sniffing the air of doubt
merchant of goodness sold
the vessel cut,
frozen tears oozing out like flowing cascades
neck dipped in sand like water soaked in dirt
feathers falling off like the sun that fades
ticks sucking her blood
she wails aloud in pain,
not for misery of the moment
but for her very nature that betrays her
Yet she knows not
That many long to walk in her shoes.
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