Surprise, realization,
shouting dancers, gyrate;
to lead the conclusion;
I have achieved the grim look of a writer.
My hair has grown long,
scraggly beard unkempt,
wrinkles in age old clothes.
I walk by, you already say nothing;
happiness does not bound the barrier,
saltation flows preserved.
I would not have acquiesced
a squeak from supple lips; and
thus silence arrives with her
somber thought pennies.
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