[ ]

They removed the only

inspiration from [his] back

The only dagger that

followed the attack

The one thing so distant

to embrace in [his] arms

Like [his] assailant

—the wheel of storms

So quickly—it returns...

You open your eyes; one learns

I set out to get by, a lucky stroke

I got the hint when I awoke

There's no profit, ever too small,

That keeps coming affordable

Never [is/was] a given need

That satisfies when you bleed.

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