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Zeniths


In the words of a poem my speech may be impaired|

Captured dictations slither in to your skin|

Phases wrapped in phrases|

Ridicules left behind in praises|

But we stride and march beyond the line|

Perhaps My words will one day make emotional zeniths for you to climb|

Helping you see the forgotten lands you left behind|

And explore the new purlieus that await beyond|

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  1. I think these are hopes we all cherish when we compose poems or prose.

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