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Untitled MAG
Yousee him
Sitting there on the slope of a bluff
Across from you
He strumsat the guitar
Plucking
And you know him for everything he is
You gripthe green grass in your fingers
Carpets the billowing Earth beneath you
Yet
Words never spoken
As you watch from a hill saturated inaccusations
Finding comfort in initial convictions
Truth
It tries toreach out to you
Pushed farther away by a firewall of indictments
Unwarranted
Doubt, suspicion, pride, ego
The judge has spoken
It islost
That one thing, what was it?
The hill quite too assuring to everabandon
Oh yes, truth
But that is okay with you
For you know him
And he looks on from his bluff
Picking at the strings
All the whileorchestrating your profile
He knows you
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