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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Silver WInd

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A single blush

within a square inch

a glimpse of green

and splash of blue

painted hills fade

to from the foreground.

 

A box between two worlds

oppression of walls

which would squeeze

out the last drops of life.

 

While somewhere beyond

blooms touched by the sun

and birds may sing.

 

A tormentuous square

carved out in for neat

sides to give speculation

for what lay in wait and

may never be touched.

 

Colors merged and pulled

apart, a living painting

teasing escape that

dwells only far within

the mind.

 

And the body stays rooted

to hard floors and lids

snapped tight in place.

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