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Phoenix Down (poem)

An average cricket chirping summer night,

Len pulled away with unheeded plight,

Some may call rape violent passion,

but Brute’s eyes were for attraction.

Shattered feelings, hope was lost,

The tempest in Len’s mind was tossed!

The confusion pain mixed with lust…

How could once she give him trust?

Age’s passed, she craved more passion,

met Lew, the sympathetic bastion.

Lew had no treatment for her tragedy,

provided balms, band-aids… mere remedy.

Len hated Lew, could not ignite her flame.

Lew hated Len, sought solace in pain.

Midst of the passion, the fire spread,

Brute’s heat engulfing, Lew was dead.

From the ashes Lew rebirthed…

The rest of this story is unsaid.

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It's been a while since I posted a poem. So much irritation subdued in frustration. The creative bell rings less often when these distractions soften the blows to vibration and stifled timing. Here I